Waking the Witch
by fohatic
Summary: Kidnapped, Obliviated, and sold into slavery, Hermione is rescued by a remorseful Severus Snape, who now faces the difficult task of establishing her trust and reviving her memory. She's changed, however, and he's in for some shocking surprises. / Beware! *AU—mature themes—prepare for twists!*
1. Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

Severus had visited some of the darkest recesses of the Earth in his time as a Death Eater, but he had to admit that the muggle dive he now had the misfortune of finding himself in was, quite possibly, the lowest place he'd ever known. Granted, he'd never actually been in a werewolf den, but he imagined that this place might count as a pretty close muggle equivalent. Surreptitiously glancing around, he suddenly had the somewhat ridiculous notion that— even in his suitably tattered overcoat and grungy old work boots— he might've been overdressed...

Scattered around the room were some of the most unfortunate creatures he'd ever laid eyes on: toothless, skeletal muggles with grey skin and wiry, matted hair; obese, foul-smelling muggles in filthy t-shirts clinging to slimy, sweaty skin; muggles covered in tattoos and piercings, looking even less human than goblins... in the sweltering summer heat, most were stripped down to their stained undershirts (if they wore a shirt at all), though even for the sake of blending in, Severus would not deign to sink so low. Instead, he opted for a psychological deflection charm, which had prevented anyone from serving him a much needed cold drink - though from the look of the establishment, he figured that even touching his lips to a freshly opened bottle would be risking his health.

A few hours later, the heat started becoming unbearable. The sun had long since sunk below the horizon, but the night air brought no relief. Severus had witnessed several fights erupt throughout the evening, and had successfully dodged all the objects that had flown in his direction, with the exception of one wayward pint of lager that had shattered against the wall behind him. Despite muttering a thorough cleansing charm over himself and his immediate area, Severus was irritated that he could still smell the noxious brew festering around him, clashing odiously with the increasingly pungent smell of the overheated muggle bodies thrashing about. His lips curled in distaste as a bloodied tooth suddenly skittered toward him on the ground after someone's fist collided with some man's face.

Just as he was considering stepping out for some fresh air, Severus noticed movement occurring at the side of the empty stage. He took a deep breath and watched intently for what would come next. Though his anticipation was grave, his eyes held the sadness and exhaustion of one who had experienced too many disappointments to allow any hope to color this tense moment. He was certain this would be another let down, and indeed, he nearly wanted it to be so: Merlin forbid that this actually _were _the moment he'd spent over a year anticipating— that _this place_, of all places, were the place he'd find her in.

Though it was hard to make him out in the dim light, Severus could see a fiendishly large, bald man hunched in the doorway beside the stage, seemingly directing others in the hidden passage alongside it. If he didn't know any better, he would've assumed the man were half giant. With a tired grunt, the large man finally turned around and made his way onto the platform, looking out over the rowdy crowd under a heavy brow that made his unhappy eyes look disarmingly angry. The sight of his looming figure alone was enough to suppress the din to some degree, but it was his bellowing voice that suddenly caused the entire room to pay attention.

"SHUT UP!" he shouted, hunched over and morose, his voice croaking like a frog's, "SHUT THE HELL UP."

The crowd grumbled and turned toward the stage, some slumping into their seats while others tottered drunkenly on their heels.

"IF YOU ALL QUIET DOWN, WE'RE GONNA HAVE SOME GIRLIES UP HERE."

The crowd broke out in cheers and lewd exclamations, while Severus braced himself for the unpleasantness to follow. Despite his exhaustive efforts to find her, in the back of his mind he silently prayed that he wouldn't get lucky tonight.

"REMEMBER THE RULES," the large man continued, "NO TOUCHING. IF YOU TOUCH ANY OF THE GIRLIES, I'M GONNA BREAK YOUR FUCKING FINGERS."

With that, the man made his way off the platform just as unceremoniously as he'd appeared, as several men hollered in excitement while others hissed and spat at the warning.

Severus took another deep breath and stared resignedly at the stage. He watched the hulking shape of the man disappear into the doorway again, then shuffle violently as he dragged a diminutive form out from the shadows. The crowd became impatient, hollering louder as the hulking man lurched forward suddenly at the retreating figure, then swat a heavy hand against an unseen face.

"Don't be shy, lass!" chuckled a man from the front of the room, who had a better view than Severus of the goings-on, "Come on out, let's have a look at you!"

"Slap 'er again," slurred another, "git 'er arse up 'ere."

"Let's see some pussy!" someone called out in a gruff voice, prompting laughter while several others chanted in similarly gruff voices, "_Let's see some pussy! Let's see some pussy!"_

Severus rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, equally impatient, though for much different reasons. If he never encountered another drunken muggle again, it would still be too soon.

Just then the diminutive figure was thrown forward by the hulking one, clattering roughly against the stairs to the stage platform. Severus stiffened in his seat, lifting his gaze in a vain attempt to see the small body sprawled on the stairs, shielded by the predatory crowd of jeering drunks. Slowly she pushed herself up, wincing as her scraped palms pulled away from their grip on the top step. Her face still hidden beneath a generous head of honey brown hair, the girl grimaced as she crossed her arms tightly around herself and made her way up the stairs while the crowd cheered and whistled.

Severus could see her well enough now as she moved to the center of the stage, though her face was still concealed behind her long, wavy locks. He swallowed hard and tried to convince himself that this girl's hair was much lighter and less frizzy than the head of hair his eyes had sought for so long; that her legs were too long, her breasts were too full, her hips too well-defined... but then, it had been over a year; could a 16 year-old's body change so much in that time?

Her face was still turned away, her body teetering on the high heels strapped to her feet and her legs shifting in the tight red satin tap shorts that rose to just beneath her navel. The men were growing increasingly impatient, shouting at her to give them a better look, to "_do_ something!", to "show us your titties!"

When she refused to even look up, the towering presence of the bald man rose to the side of the stage, hands on his hips, prompting her to startle slightly as he stomped his foot loudly and scowled in frustration.

Slowly she let her arms drop to her sides, eliciting wild shouts of appreciation as she revealed her bare chest to the ravenous onlookers. Even Severus was momentarily taken aback at the sight of the lovely young woman before him, though his eyes still darted anxiously over her hidden face. As she stood straighter, her hair shifted slightly to reveal a tightly pursed mouth, and Severus' heart skipped a beat.

"_No..." _he muttered to himself, "it_ can't _be..."

The girl raised a limp wrist to her face, and in one fell swoop her hair was tossed back defiantly as she looked out with accusing eyes at the men before her. Severus stopped breathing. The appreciative hollering of the crowd rang out in a din that rivaled the ringing of his own ears as his head filled with an unbearable pressure.

Somewhere from the other side of the stage, loud music broke out in a sleazy burlesque tune and the girl suddenly raised herself into a well practiced pose, her arms lifted languidly above her as her hips trust forward gratuitously, one leg raised and bent slightly to rest on her toes. The crowd applauded eagerly, and her face, once defiant and accusing, slipped easily into a look of perfect seduction and allure. Her mouth took on an exaggerated pout, opened slightly and wanton, while her eyelids became heavy and her lashes fanned at the audience. As the music swelled, her body swelled with it and her face morphed into an image of complete rapture as her back arched and her hips started swaying in rhythm. The crowd became insatiable, demanding more as glasses broke and men yelped out in erotic agony.

Severus choked out a breath, gasping uselessly as his chest threatened to cave in on him. He struggled to contain his shock, knowing that he would find her sooner or later, and knowing the circumstances he found her in would be unsavory. Still, he was not prepared for the sight of her like _this_, in _this place_, and for a moment he was at a loss of what to do. With another shuddering breath, he forced himself to start formulating a plan, considering the unforeseen delicacy of the situation.

Though he wanted to apparate them both out of that place right then and there, he knew he had to take certain precautions. He would have to be discreet, make it look like she'd been abducted by a muggle... she wouldn't recognize him, and he might frighten her, so he'd probably have to stun her... and he'd have to put some clothes on her...

As his mind worked rapidly in response to the alarming situation he suddenly found himself in, he tried to choke down the nagging remorse that kept working its way into his thoughts.

"_It's your fault she's here,_" his conscience berated, "_look what you've done to her._"

Unwillingly his eyes moved back to the seductively dancing waif on the stage in front of him. His eyes filled with pain, but he couldn't look away.

"_I'm so sorry,_" he thought, his gaze fixated on the sultry figure that had once been the brightest student he'd ever encountered in all his years of teaching.

As he watched her, a lump rose in his throat until he choked out a single word, so quiet amid the thronging bedlam that he hardly heard it himself as it escaped his lips,

"_Hermione..._"


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

By the time her dance routine had ended, Severus was already in place in the backstage corridor. No one had noticed him slink away into the shadows, and he suspected that his deflection charm deserved less credit than the distraction that Hermione was providing: the last image he had of her before leaving the room was of her on her knees in the center of the stage, her thighs splayed, her torso stretched tautly and her head thrown back while her breasts rose above the rest of her body, one arm thrown behind her to support her position while the other slid down her torso in a long caress before reaching a goal Severus didn't stick around to watch, but guessed had been reached when the cheers rose to a whooping crescendo.

Afterward the stage had been rushed by those who were either too bold or too stupid to heed the earlier warning, and Severus took up his wand as he heard gunshots blast out from the side of the stage. Straining to listen for a sign that she was in certain danger (before blowing his cover and risking both their lives), Severus heard the crowd retreat slightly as the large man stomped onstage with his pistol, cursing warnings at anyone who dared move closer. After a short pause, the heavy footsteps moved off the stage and toward Severus' hiding place, and he retreated further into a dark recess as the large man lumbered into the corridor with a slightly put out Hermione slumped over his shoulder.

"_Put me down!_" she spat as the stage door was slammed behind them.

The large man tossed her off his shoulder as if she were a knapsack, and she cried out as she landed awkwardly on the hard floor. Severus' grip on his wand tightened, but he made no move to intervene.

"My hero." Hermione muttered sarcastically, and the man looked at her dumbly.

"Shut up," he croaked, "go get Lexi."

Hermione looked at him indignantly as she rose to her feet, rubbing a sore spot on her elbow.

"WHAT ARE YOU STARING AT?" The man shouted impatiently, waving his pistol loosely in his grip toward the far end of the corridor, "MOVE IT, NINA."

'Nina'?... Severus balked at the appellation. Of course she wouldn't be 'Hermione' anymore, but it still sounded odd to his ears.

'Nina' strutted off down the corridor in a huff while the large man watched her retreat with a slack jaw and a vacant expression. After shoving the pistol into his waistband, he listlessly shuffled back toward the stage door and made his way out to announce the next act, after issuing another warning with more severity than the first.

Severus didn't wait around to hear it, but crept down the corridor as soon as the man had disappeared. Arriving at another door, which had been left slightly ajar, Severus listened carefully to ascertain the occupants. He could hear at least three different female voices, one of whom was unmistakably the former Griffindor. Glancing further down the corridor, he could see another door at the end, which didn't look much like an exit. He shifted towards it, hearing nothing but silence behind it. With a quick "alohomora," he pushed the door open slightly to see nothing but darkness, and he slipped inside gingerly and illuminated his wand to find an empty office without a single window.

Outside in the corridor, he could hear movement and he peered out of the office to see a buxom blonde in bare feet with high heels in her grasp making her way towards the stage door. As she rounded the corner, Severus slowly moved out again and crept back to the room Hermione was in, to listen outside. He could only hear two voices now, and from the intimate tone of their conversation he assumed they were the only two occupants of the room.

"Puzhalsta, Ninotchka..." the second woman cooed in a seductive Russian accent, "I cut! You looke like silunt fillum star! Krasivaya!"

Glancing in at the cracked door, Severus could see a slightly older, dark-haired woman standing behind Hermione, who was seated in front of a well-lit mirror, smoothing down Hermione's hair and pulling it behind her to create the illusion of it having been cut short.

Hermione let out a bubbling laugh and tried in vain to swat the other woman's hands away.

"Nyet, Zoya!" she giggled, "I don't want to cut it!"

Zoya reached for a large pair of shears, and Hermione dissolved in giggly screams of protest.

"Nyet, nyet! Leave it alone! I like it this way!"

Unconvinced, the Russian woman set the shears back on the table and continued playing with Hermione's hair behind her.

"Eez much too crazy," she continued, "You looke like wild woman! I tame eet!"

"I _am _a wild woman, Zoya," Hermione argued in a playfully seductive tone, "don't you know that?"

Hermione reached up and stroked the arm of the woman behind her, looking at her through her reflection in a rakish expression. The Russian woman scoffed.

Just then, the door to the dressing room burst open and Zoya spun around with a gasp, but was stupefied before she even had a chance to get a look at her assailant. In the mirror before her, Hermione had only a moment to make out the tall, dark form of a strange man in a long coat with some kind of pointed weapon held out in front of him. Through the mirror she held his gaze, which she noted with some alarm had a strange intensity to it that unnerved her.

The man approached her slowly, looking conflicted as he decided what to do. Glancing quickly around the room, he surprised her when he grabbed a floral satin robe and held it out to her. She turned toward him and carefully rose from her seat.

"Quick, put this on," he demanded in a slightly apologetic tone.

Hermione blinked at him and slowly reached for the offered garment, holding his gaze suspiciously while her other hand moved covertly to the table behind her.

As she reached an arm into the robe, she suddenly spun her other arm around in a movement so quick that it caught a distracted Severus off guard. Before he knew what had hit him, a pair of shears had been thrust brutally into his ribs, and he let out a cry of shock.

Shooting her an intense look as if he'd been betrayed, Hermione was so caught up in his pained and emotionally charged expression that she almost forgot to scream for help.

"BRUTUS!" she shouted, causing Severus to wake up from his blow and realize that he had to act fast, "BRUTUS, HEL—" before she could scream any further, Severus had pressed his palm against her mouth and started searching the room for an alternate exit. High against the far wall was a ground window, and Severus realized they were in a basement. It was barely large enough for him to fit through, and the pain in his ribs would undoubtedly protest at the attempt, but he had to make it look like a muggle abduction.

Looking at Hermione again through pained eyes, he knew what he had to do.

"I'm sorry," he muttered sincerely before lifting his wand to her. Before he could stupefy her, she bit down against the flesh of his palm with remarkably strong jaws. Severus yelped and tore his hand away, looking at her in fury and horror as a she tried to claw at him. He recalled her earlier conversation with the Russian, and realized she hadn't been exaggerating when she said she was a 'wild woman.'

"Stupefy!" Severus hissed, and Hermione fell slack against him. He rapidly pulled her other arm into the robe and tied it sloppily around her bare waist with his maimed hand, then lowered her gently onto the chair beside her as he moved to shove a dresser against the wall beneath the window. With no time to spare, he lifted Hermione's limp body atop the dresser and then climbed up himself, groaning against the fresh pain in his ribs. With great difficulty he managed to squeeze through the opening, then reached in to pull Hermione through. Pausing to be sure they weren't being followed yet, Severus slung Hermione's small frame over his shoulder and sprinted off into the shadows, where he was at last able to apparate them away from the Godforsaken hell hole.


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N: Just wanted to give thanks to my early reviewers; this being my first fic, I wasn't expecting interest so soon — knowing that people are already looking forward to more has prompted me to keep it going sooner than anticipated. Anyone else out there, please let me know that you're reading! -K**_

Chapter 3

Hermione awoke on a springy mattress in an unfamiliar room, with a light sheet draped over her. The morning sun was already high in the sky, and a dry breeze drifted through the open window beside her. On her other side was a nightstand with a tall glass of water placed on it, and Hermione was too thirsty to stop herself from gulping it all down in one go.

As she sat up wiping the moisture from her dry lips, her eyes focused unsteadily on the pale, pink paint that was cracking off the wood paneled walls. There were nails sticking out in some places, but only one picture still hung askew in a tarnished brass frame on a wire: it depicted a many-armed Hindu goddess rising from a lotus flower and framed by an intricate halo of golden rays.

Glancing around the room, Hermione noted the sparse furnishings and got the distinct impression that this room hadn't been lived in for some time. A multicolored, spiral knit rug covered the ground beside the iron bed frame, and was as faded and dusty as the old wooden beams of the floorboards. Above a knackered old dresser on the opposite side of the room was a flawed oval mirror, and beside it was a closet with no door and just a few wire hangers left dangling from the wooden beam. Above the beam was a shelf with some tattered quilts that looked like they needed a good washing, and on the floor below was an old brass lamp with no shade.

Hermione then looked out the window and was suddenly panicked at the realization that she was in some kind of shanty in the Australian outback, and the terrible uncertainty of this new situation had her irrationally wishing that she were back with her former Aussie captors. At least with Brutus she knew what to expect, but recalling the intense eyes and harsh features of her latest kidnapper made her shiver as she tried to guess his intentions.

Knowing that she couldn't get far on foot in the rugged terrain, Hermione's first plan was to try and make off with her kidnapper's vehicle. She thought it would be unlikely that he'd leave the keys in the ignition, so she decided that knocking him out while she searched for his keys would be her best chance. The brass lamp would have to do the job. Realizing that he was quite tall, she tried to work out a plan to jump him from above; the closet shelf seemed the only option, since he'd surely notice her right away if she tried perching atop the dresser.

Carefully stepping out of the bed, Hermione made her way into the closet and snatched up the lamp, cringing as the floor boards creaked beneath her. She rapidly pushed the quilts aside and hoisted herself up, scrambling to get into a position that would enable her to pounce as soon as he entered the room. The shelf wobbled beneath her, and a cold sweat broke out across her face as she nearly lost her footing on her precarious perch.

In the room outside, Severus' ears picked up the sounds of movement coming from the bedroom. He swallowed nervously and set down his teacup, fidgeting with the rim as he waited for Hermione to step out from behind the closed door. He stilled his face into an impassive expression that was meant to reassure her, but at that moment he felt that he was the one most in need of reassurance.

After waiting for several minutes, Severus was concerned when he didn't hear any further sounds. It suddenly occurred to him that she might be panicked enough to try and make a run for it, and wondered if she'd been foolish enough to climb out the window and take her chances in the unforgiving desert. Summoning his resolve, Severus tentatively stood from his chair and crossed the room to tap lightly at the door.

"Hello?" he called out softly, "are you awake?"

When he received no answer, Severus slowly opened the door, peeking through to see that the bed was now empty. His eyes scanned the room carefully, knowing better than to take any chances around the girl. With great caution, he stepped into the room and lowered himself slowly to glance under the bed, then spun around swiftly as he heard a slight creak from the closet behind him.

Before he knew what was happening, the closet shelf had lurched forward suddenly under the unbalanced weight of Hermione's predatory stance, throwing her forward in a loud clamour as she landed with a thud on the wood floor, followed by a pile of quilts and the treacherous shelf.

A brass lamp rolled in a wide circle toward a baffled Severus as he took in the unexpected sight of Hermione's fallen form under a pile of dusty quilts. He blinked his eyes in incomprehension.

"Are you... alright?" He asked uncomfortably, unsure whether to be annoyed with her or compassionate toward the rather pathetic creature. He realized her failed intention soon enough, and was less than amused with the feeble attempt.

With a huff, Hermione flung a quilt off of her and used her forearm to push back the mess of hair covering her face, and Severus was reminded of a similar action and expression he'd seen from her the night before.

Then, after only a slight pause, her face melted into an expression of vulnerability and injury, and she held his gaze with piercing neediness as her hand moved to her knee.

"I think I'm hurt," she choked out, and tears started forming in her eyes as she slumped into the position of a wounded animal.

Severus regarded her for a moment with slight apprehension, suddenly at a loss of how to handle a delicate female. His eyes narrowed with pity and his face struggled with a pained expression of sympathy and awkwardness as he carefully lowered himself to her, trying not to scare her.

"May I?" He asked, indicating her leg, which he offered to inspect.

Hermione eyed him suspiciously, but leaned back on her palms and allowed him to touch her sore flesh. There was only a slight scrape, but Severus didn't doubt a large bruise would be forthcoming.

"I don't think you've broken anything," he offered, gently feeling for any signs of greater injury.

Hermione narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips in an odd pout, studying the unexpectedly gentle man bent before her.

Severus knew that a simple charm could heal the minor injury, but had resolved not to use magic in front of Hermione until the time was right. At this point, she still had no knowledge of the wizarding world, and reestablishing that knowledge would require great delicacy and careful planning.

"I stabbed you," Hermione suddenly spoke, and Severus looked up at her with his hand still on her knee.

She was looking at his side in clear confusion— and, perhaps, mild disappointment— wondering how he was able to bend down as he was without grimacing in pain.

"Yes..." Severus answered, looking her up and down while deciding how to explain his recovery, as he had tended to the wound magically later that evening.

"It wasn't that bad... nothing a few bandages couldn't mend." He forced a disingenuous smile at her, that she noticed didn't reach his eyes, which were decidedly apprehensive.

Hermione cocked her head slightly, reluctant to accept his explanation, having been certain that she'd stabbed him worse than he was letting on.

After a long silence filled with suspicious glances, Severus stood up and offered her his hand. She looked up at him warily, waiting for him to announce his intentions.

"Come along," Severus said with patience, "there's tea and breakfast waiting for you, and some ice in the icebox that we can put on that knee."

Hermione swallowed and cautiously placed her hand in his, allowing him to help her lift herself off the floor. When she stumbled slightly, Severus offered his arm for her to lean on as he helped her out into the kitchen. Hermione clung to him, noticing the strong muscles underneath the lightweight black cotton of his fine shirt. She marveled at the strange choice of clothes in such weather, wondering what kind of man dresses in long black sleeves and slacks in the middle of the outback in December. He'd even bothered to button the shirt all the way up to the raised collar at the neck, which made her wonder if the man wasn't slightly mental. What kind of kidnapper was he?

Severus pulled out a chair and helped Hermione into her seat, then moved to grab a kitchen towel which he wrapped around some ice. He then ran some water over another small towel, and returned to Hermione, crouching down to pat her wound clean. She didn't think it was really necessary, but he was administering to her so earnestly that she wasn't about to stop him. Then he gently placed the makeshift ice pack over her knee, and she jumped slightly at the cold contact. He lifted his eyes to hers and forced another of those strange half-smiles in silent apology.

When she didn't move to take the ice pack from him, he looked at her awkwardly, wondering if she expected him to keep holding it for her.

"If you'll take the ice now, I can get your breakfast for you..." he suggested, and she nodded at him and placed her hand on the cloth, glancing up from her knee briefly as he rose with some relief.

Behind her, Severus gathered the toast and eggs that he'd magically prepared earlier and made up a plate, which he garnished with a sprig of parsley.

He set the plate before her and turned back for the tea, asking her how she took it.

"Dash of cream and two sugars," she answered, and he decided to excuse the fact that she hadn't said 'please.' After all, as far as she knew he was some kind of kidnapper, and it would be unreasonable to expect any politeness from her so soon. In the back of his mind his conscience started stammering indignantly about the audacity of expecting any politeness from her at all after what he'd done, but he quickly squelched the thought.

After setting down her tea, Severus lowered himself into the opposite seat and waited for her to eat the meal he'd prepared. When she just stared back at him blankly, he tried to disguise his discomfort behind another half-smile, attempting to be polite.

This caused her to narrow her eyes even further, and he waited for her to start berating him with questions and accusations. Instead she eventually lowered her gaze to her food and started eating.

"Are you just going to watch me eat, then?" she asked between bites, "is this what you took me for?"

Severus raised an eyebrow at her.

"...Do you like to watch?" she asked, raising one at him.

Hermione sipped her tea, waiting for him to speak. Severus was unsure how to answer her (and slightly unnerved by her suggestive tone), and she continued eating as he formulated a response.

"I took you because you weren't safe where you were. I only want to protect you."

She smiled enigmatically at this, looking down at her eggs.

"My hero..." she muttered sarcastically, and he recalled her saying the same thing to Brutus a short time ago. Uncomfortable with being spoken to in the same manner as that thug, Severus attempted to appeal to her further.

"You've no reason to fear me, I promise I won't harm you in any way. If there's anything you need that's within my power to give, you'll have it."

At this she glanced up at him, only for a moment, before looking back at her plate while she considered his words.

At length she spoke again:

"How about taking me back then?"

Severus blinked in confusion, wondering what she was playing at.

"You want to _go back_? To that place?"

Hermione pursed her lips and glanced up at him again.

"So what if I do? Where else would I go?"

Severus' mouth opened involuntarily. He wasn't about to tell her about the home that was still waiting for her, about the friends and family that loved her and missed her and had been worried sick about her. It was too soon for any of that.

"You can... stay here, for now... at least you're safe here..." Severus answered uncomfortably, speaking with broken pauses as if the words were difficult to utter. Hermione regarded him curiously, wondering why he was speaking with such difficulty.

"But I don't know you," she said almost patronizingly, and Severus wondered if she thought he was simple. "I had friends... well, a friend... back where I was. She'll worry about me, she needs me. We looked out for each other."

Severus' mouth pulled back tightly and his eyes strained to look at her as if it hurt to do so. With a sigh, his gaze dropped to the table and he started to speak, but his words didn't come out right away.

"I can't bring you back there. You must trust me. I'm sorry for the shock you must be going through, I wish I could make it easier for you."

Hermione waited for him to say more, but a long silence stretched out between them. She continued to eat her toast, having learned better than to ever let a good meal go to waste, no matter how awkward the circumstances.

"What do you want from me, then?" she asked at last, setting down her teacup after sucking down the last drop.

Severus looked up with worried eyes, but couldn't look at her face.

"...I don't want anything from you," he lied, not wanting to worry her yet about the memory charm reversal process that he would later have to submit her to, "I just want you to rest. I just want you to be safe."

Hermione's brow furrowed at that. 'Rest'? She wasn't especially tired... what did he think he was keeping her safe from? Surely he was some kind of pervert, or possibly insane, or both... maybe he was a paranoid schizophrenic, and had developed an obsessive fantasy around her after watching her dance, and thought he had to kidnap her to protect her from some imaginary assailants. Whatever his reasons, she was sure she didn't want to stick around long enough to find out. She had to find those keys.

"Right. Well, I guess you won't mind if I take a shower then?" Severus was relieved that she seemed to be accepting the situation.

"Not at all... the only shower is outdoors, but there's a clawfoot tub in the bathroom."

"That'll be fine," she answered, and rose from her seat. "Shall I do the washing up first?"

Severus smiled at her politely. "Of course not. I'll take care of it, please, enjoy your bath."

Hermione smiled back, but it was just as disingenuous as his earlier attempts. She set the cloth full of partially melted ice on her empty plate, and made a show of limping in the direction Severus had pointed her towards.

Severus began clearing the table, and waited until he heard the sound of a running bath to pull out his wand and finish the job with ease.

After tidying up, Severus had settled on the sofa in the adjoining living room with his back to the bathroom, not wanting to appear lecherous in case Hermione had to creep past him back to the bedroom to dry off. Still tired from the night before (and the weeks, let alone the year leading up to it), Severus allowed his eyes to close as he listened to the running water. He'd just begun to doze off when he thought he heard movement behind him - before he had a chance to turn around, something large and blunt crashed down over his head and white lights flashed behind his eyes as he slipped into sudden unconsciousness.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

As he regained consciousness, Severus' first thought was that Hermione had been taken again. Somehow, the Death Eaters had gotten word of her abduction, and had tracked her down to the safe house. Though his rational mind would've dismissed the idea as next to impossible, his concern for the girl had become so deeply ingrained in his very being that it had eclipsed all other notions as his befuddled consciousness resurfaced.

Instinctively moving to withdraw his wand from its compartment in his left sleeve, Severus' wrist caught suddenly against a strong force. He realized with growing alarm that he had been crudely restrained, and was about to mutter a wandless incantation when his eyes focused on the female form crouched on the ground in front of him.

"Hermione?" he spoke, surprised to see her there.

The girl narrowed her eyes at him and tilted her head, wondering why he called her that.

Suddenly remembering himself, Severus blinked away the last vestiges of confusion and concentrated on the tricky position he was in. Though it was within his power to free himself from her bonds, for now he would allow her to believe that she had the upper hand.

He looked cautiously at her, hoping she wouldn't lash out at him and force him to demonstrate his power.

"There's no car," she spoke in almost a whisper, "how come there's no car?"

There was desperation in her eyes, and Severus realized the cause of her confusion.

"No," he answered, "There's no car."

"Then how did we get here?" she demanded, hysteria rising in her voice, "How do we get out?"

"Were you planning on going somewhere?" he asked, and immediately regretted it when he saw her face fall.

She stared at him long and hard, sizing him up. She was clearly stuck with him, alone in the middle of nowhere, with little chance of encountering another person, and she had no idea why. She could keep guessing, but none of her previous guesses were satisfying enough to be plausible. He really didn't seem insane; though she'd only just met him, something in his eyes told her that he was fully lucid and sensible. He seemed gentle, even caring, though something else in his eyes told her that he was fully capable of harming anyone who crossed him. There was a palpable strength to his presence; a power that was inscrutable and something beyond sheer masculinity. She was slightly afraid of him, but it was that same fear that made him all the more captivating. Perhaps he _was_ some kind of pervert, but it would have to be a kind she was not familiar with. Whatever he was, she was intent on figuring it out.

"You're going to tell me why you brought me here, and you're going to tell me _now._" she tried, failing to ignore her secret embarrassment at the naivety of her approach.

Severus saw right through her, but feigned frustration.

"I told you," he insisted, "You're here so that I can protect you."

She looked at him disbelievingly. "What do I need protecting from?"

"Well," he offered, "That 'Brutus,' for starters - he didn't seem too keen on protecting your welfare, except from that mob, who I'd also expect you'd be pleased to be far away from..."

"That was nothing," she scoffed, "I've danced for worse crowds than them."

Severus shuddered to think what she meant by that, and winced sorrowfully at the thought. Hermione furrowed her brow at his expression, sensing his pity.

"At least none of them tried to kidnap me, to get me all to themselves in some remote shack in the middle of the outback, trying to convince me that it's for my own good... next you'll probably want to start pretending I'm your wife or something, and that it's perfectly normal to keep me trapped out here..."

"I can assure you I have no such intentions." Severus interjected, "My reasons for keeping you here are in no way... carnal."

Hermione smirked at that, detecting slight embarrassment from the man. She decided to push it further to be sure.

"Oh no? Not even a little bit?" she asked playfully, coloring her voice with fake disappointment.

She then rose to her knees in front of him, causing Severus to frown in confusion. Whatever she was playing at, he didn't like it.

"You mean to say that you dragged me all the way out here in my dancing shorts and my dressing robe just to serve me toast and eggs and keep me out of trouble?"

She had a mischievous look on her face that made Severus more than a little nervous as her fingers traced up and down the edge of her robe. He gave her a hard look that he usually reserved for misbehaving students, a look that had intimidated many a first-year needing to be taught just how formidable the wrath of Severus Snape could be - but she appeared undaunted, and, to his great consternation, simply laughed at him. It wasn't a nervous laugh, either, but the perennially intimidating laugh of a female quite aware of her own prowess.

"I don't believe you." She said in a low voice that was nearly as blood-curdling as Voldemort's could be.

She fixed her eyes on him like a snake about to strike, and Severus called upon his own skill at manipulation to present a rather convincing mask of impassivity. She didn't falter, however, and proceeded to rise to the challenge with an unconcealed note of glee.

Severus watched in horror as she proceeded to tug at the sash of her robe, slowly revealing the taught skin beneath the delicate satin. Pulling the fabric to one side, she exposed a single breast, which looked even more lovely up close, working her hand up around the perky flesh and gingerly coaxing a soft pink nipple into a rosy hardness.

Severus furrowed his brow in displeasure, looking her straight in the eyes in silent chastisement. Undaunted, she held his gaze confidently, immune to the shame he intended to provoke in her. Recognizing her audacity, his eyes softened into a pained sadness that was so genuine that she faltered for just a moment.

"_Enough_." he spoke quietly, "Please, enough."

Hermione frowned and lowered her hand, but didn't cover herself. She stared at him appraisingly, searching for any indication that he was bluffing. Was he really not interested in her body? She was almost afraid to consider the possibility. If she didn't have that power over him, what did she have? Her sexuality was her greatest asset, and she knew how to work it to her advantage. If she was stuck with a man who was truly immune to her charms, she might not have any chance of ever getting away...

She was suddenly motivated to take more drastic measures. Standing up, she pulled off the rest of her robe and straddled the dark man's lap before the gown had finished fluttering to the floor. Severus pulled back in surprise, appalled as she started stroking his chest and hair. She nuzzled her face against his, pressing her breasts into his chest as she whispered seductively into his ear:

"Come on, love, you must like me just a little... you're not so bad looking yourself, you big, _strong_ man..."

Severus struggled against her, shouting "Get off! You're making a fool of yourself!"

Hermione gripped the hair at the back of his head and pulled back, causing him to gasp.

"What are you into, huh? Do you like it rough? Is this what you want?"

Severus' eyes widened as she started grinding into his lap, rolling her eyes back in gratuitous pleasure.

She slowed down to look back into his eyes, searching for any sign of arousal.

"I can be whatever you want me to be, sweetheart," she spoke low and seductively, grinding her hips in an agonizingly slow rhythm.

Suddenly aware of an erection forming beneath her, Severus decided that she had gone too far and muttered a wandless releasing charm to free himself from his bonds.

Hermione was surprised to find strong hands grip her arms and toss her onto the sofa beside her, staring up in disbelief as Severus stood before her, irate.

"How did you...?" she started, then quickly regained her composure in an effort to maintain her sense of control.

"It doesn't matter," she smirked, "I _felt _you, you dirty old man. I know that you want it." She laughed triumphantly, and Severus looked away in frustration.

"Just go to your room," he commanded, staring at the floor, "I don't want to look at you."

"Yes you do," she chuckled, "but I'll go anyway... see? I can be a good girl when I get what I want."

Hermione picked up her robe and dragged it over her shoulders, neglecting to tie the sash around her waist.

As she strutted back to the bedroom, she heard Severus ask quietly, "What happened to you?"

She paused at the door and considered his words, trying to figure out what he meant. Unable to discern any meaning, she frowned and slowly walked into the room, quietly closing the door behind her.

Severus ran a hand through his hair and down his face, then rubbed the back of his neck as his other hand pinched the bridge of his nose. This was going to be much harder than he realized.


	5. Chapter 5

_**A/N: Thanks for all the alerts/favorites/reviews! I'm very excited about where this story is going, and I hope you will be, too - there's much drama and backstory to come...**_

Chapter 5

Hermione lay on her back and stared at the ceiling, her mind overrun with curiosity and speculation regarding her unusual captor. To her great relief she'd discovered that the man wasn't impotent — she was all too familiar with how dangerous and brutal impotent men could be.

She wondered at the man's strange reactions to her, recalling the obstinate lack of arousal at her attentions. If he feared her blatant sexuality, maybe a more subtle approach was called for... maybe he wanted her to be sweet... wanted to nurture an innocence he was projecting onto her... that must be it! Of course! How could she be so daft? He thought he was saving her, _protecting her_ from corruption...

But why? Was he some kind of religious fanatic? Maybe that would explain his odd choice of apparel... maybe he was modest. He'd wanted her to cover up before he kidnapped her, offering her a robe...

Religious fanatics could be dangerous, too. This consideration left Hermione a little more concerned about him...

Whatever he was, clearly her last approach had been all wrong. She'd have to try a different tack.

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Severus stood in the bathroom door frame, staring at the full tub of water. All he could focus on was an overwhelming sense of guilt at all the nameless horrors he'd subjected his brightest pupil to. He hardly recognized her now, and it had only been a little over a year since she was taken. He had promised to find her — but now that he had, he wondered if he was too late.

He couldn't give up on her, not after everything he'd put her through. He wouldn't give up. He had to pull himself together, to stop feeling sorry for himself and focus on the difficult task at hand. Somewhere buried deep in her mind was the identity of an extraordinarily brilliant witch, and only he had the key to unlocking it.

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After an hour or so, Severus still hadn't heard a sound from the bedroom and wondered if Hermione was waiting for an invitation to come out.

He tapped lightly on the door, pushing it open carefully when he received no response. His brow furrowed when he looked in to find Hermione kneeling on the rug beside the bed, leaning forward and resting her forehead on her hands, which were clasped together devoutly.

"What are you doing?" He asked when she looked up at him with penitent eyes.

"Praying," she answered simply. He stared at her uncomfortably. Had she become religious as well? He hadn't seen _that_ coming...

"I see." He wondered if he should leave her alone.

"Did you want something?" she asked, hoping he wouldn't leave her to keep up the charade. She had been kneeling on the rug for a long time waiting for him to walk in on her, and her legs had fallen asleep.

"I... thought you might want to actually take that bath. I drained the last one, but you're welcome to run another."

"Alright, thank you; I'll be out in a minute," she said, and he nodded and shut the door quietly.

"_That was odd_," Severus thought, and moved back to his place on the sofa, this time facing the bathroom.

Soon Hermione emerged, walking straight to the bathroom without saying a word. She closed the door behind her, and he listened to the sound of the tub filling again. After awhile the taps were turned off and a peaceful silence followed, interspersed with the occasional tinkle of splashes and moving water. Severus returned to his book on the intricacies of memory charms. He found himself re-reading the same passage again and again, trying to look for anything he might've missed:

_In some cases, such reversals may be extremely traumatic to these individuals. The key consideration is not what kind of memory charm has been performed, but what kind of memories have supplanted those that have been erased. Though it would be necessary to undermine these in order to prepare the individual for a full restoration, the very attempt to do so could enable the individual to form stronger blocks against any intrusion. Furthermore, it is crucial to note the individual's psychological state before, during and after the charm has been performed. At each stage of the process, different portions of the mind are being activated and utilized by the individual, and any reluctance on the individual's part to return to one or more of these sectors (based on any trauma associated with them) can result in the unconscious segregation from them. It is as if one has locked a door and thrown away the key, never to be opened again. Any attempt on the practitioner's part to force open such a door would be risking that individual's sanity, as the mind's attempts to override the breach would be profound. _

"What are you reading?"

Severus looked up to see Hermione moving towards him, wrapped in a towel and leaving wet footprints behind her. He frowned and closed the book.

"Nothing of importance." he lied, watching her wring her hair out in another towel, causing little streams of water to flow down her arms and drip off her elbows into puddles on the wood floor. Hermione saw him frowning at the puddles, and apologized.

"It's so hot and dry out, it'll evaporate in no time." she assured him.

Severus looked up at her again, wondering if it was too soon to start working on her. His time was limited, but he didn't want to impede progress by agitating her before she was ready. He was still far from establishing any level of trust between them, and her unexpected display a few hours earlier had led him to believe that she was far from stable. The work he intended to perform was not to be taken lightly, and advanced preparations were crucial.

Hermione wondered what he was thinking, staring at her like that. He didn't seem too uncomfortable with her standing there in a towel, dripping wet and loitering around him. She decided to see how a little coyness worked on him.

"I'm sorry about earlier," she offered meekly, facing the floor and glancing up at him shyly, "I'm not usually like that, I just... was scared."

Severus looked bemused. "You didn't seem 'scared' to me; I think I was probably the 'scared' one in that situation."

Hermione's eyes flashed up at him just quick enough to scan his face, then dropped to the floor again. "But I _was _scared... I _am_ scared..." she said quietly, her eyebrows fixed in an expression of worry.

Severus was skeptical hearing this coming from the Griffindor, especially after she'd just knocked him unconscious and tried having her way with him. Still, she must've had to develop unconventional means of self-preservation during her captivity, and he shouldn't be taking her unpredictable emotions for granted. He wanted very much to use his skills at legilimency on her just then, but it was too risky at that moment.

"You really don't have to be afraid of me," he assured her, "I wish I could prove that to you."

Hermione got a certain thrill hearing that, thinking she'd pounce on the opportunity.

"Maybe you can..." she looked up at him hopefully, smiling a little. Severus looked at her patiently, waiting for her to explain her meaning.

Hermione stepped up to the other side of the couch, where she lowered herself carefully and curled up facing him, tucking her legs in so that her knee came within just a couple inches of his. Severus regarded her knee cautiously, noting the proximity.

"Why don't you tell me about yourself?" she asked innocently, throwing him a look of gentle expectation.

Severus needed to get her to open up to him, and so— despite his slight discomfort— he realized that this might be an excellent opportunity to get closer.

"What would you like to know?" he asked, with another of his generically polite smiles.

"Well," she tried, looking him straight in the eye, "How about you start by telling me who 'Hermione' is?"


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Severus' heart rate increased as he heard her speak her own name, and his face must've betrayed his anxiety, given the way she was now looking at him. She wanted answers, and it would be imprudent of him to deny her satisfaction. Whatever he told her, it had to sound honest.

"She was... that is, she _is_... a very remarkable young woman. One who I have much respect for, and to whom I owe a great deal."

Hermione listened intently, sensing that he was in earnest.

"And I remind you of her, is that it?"

Severus looked up at her and smiled a little sadly. "Yes. In some ways."

She suddenly felt self conscious, as if she wasn't living up to the standards to which he held this idealized person. She wanted to size up this 'Hermione' a little.

"What's she like?"

Severus formed his next words carefully.

"She's very intelligent, and very brave. She's compassionate. She's... sometimes a little too confident; I think she takes on more than she can sometimes handle. But that can be an admirable quality... and certainly not one I'm in any place to criticize..."

Hermione felt thoroughly humbled by his description, marveling that he would compare her to such a person. It was the wistfully sentimental way he spoke that most struck her, and she tried to follow through on it.

"You miss her, do you?"

Severus looked at her strangely, almost searchingly.

"Yes," he said at last, "I do."

Hermione felt a little sorry for the man, and a little more worried that he was confusing her with someone else, someone she could never be.

"What happened to her?"

He looked rather pained by this question, and she regretted asking it, though she was very curious to hear his answer.

"I'm not sure exactly, but it must've been rather horrible. She was taken by some very bad people, and _I've been looking for her_ ever since..."

The way he said this sounded decidedly apologetic, like he wanted to justify himself, and Hermione wondered if he was using her to cope with his issues over the other girl's disappearance. Maybe he thought that by 'saving' her, he could feel better about not being able to save the other.

"I'm sorry," she offered, "but I'm not her, you know."

Severus just flashed her another one of his non-smiles, and leaned back into the sofa.

"Can I ask _you_ something?" he tried, hoping his disclosure would now offer him a little leeway. She nodded, shifting in her seat a little.

Severus paused before deciding on his first question.

"Where do you _really _want to be right now?"

She gave him a sardonic glance. "You mean, if I had a choice? If I wasn't being held against my will?" Severus thinned his lips and nodded solemnly. She took a moment to think about it.

"Actually, to be honest, I've kind of never had a choice, not really. I mean... I miss Zoya, and I wish I could see her again - that's the friend I mentioned before - but even with her, it wasn't like I was actually happy there or anything." She began fiddling with a lock of damp hair. "Still, I don't know where else I'd go. I wouldn't want to end up on the streets again, like before."

Severus was surprised to hear that, wondering if that would explain why he had such a difficult time tracking her down.

"When were you on the streets?"

"Oh, awhile back. I'd run away from a really awful place, which I was relieved to get away from, but the streets weren't much better..."

Severus thought he knew what awful place she was referring to, but even if he were mistaken he thought it wasn't a good idea to press her to talk about it yet.

"Where did you go next?"

Hermione cringed slightly and didn't look up at him. He almost thought she wasn't going to answer, but then she lifted her head and said, matter-of-factly, "The only place I could go to get off the streets. I went to a whorehouse."

Severus went pale and his eyes flashed multiple emotions while he struggled to respond. Fortunately she continued.

"It wasn't what you're thinking... I was sort of lucky, you know. The woman who ran the place liked the way I looked, and didn't want any clients roughing me up, so she put me in the doll house."

The confusion on Severus' face was clear enough, so Hermione explained to him:

"It's like a booth, you know, with glass between the clients and the girls, and I just had to sit behind the glass and do whatever they told me to do. It wasn't that bad, really."

Severus looked embarrassed for her, and suddenly reached out and took her hand in comfort, and it felt so natural to her that she didn't react.

"It sounds awful, I'm so sorry." His tone was, again, clearly apologetic.

"Don't worry about it," she offered, "it wasn't _your _fault."

She looked up at him and was surprised to see an expression so complex that she thought he might start crying. Instead he sighed heavily, and squeezed her hand gently before releasing it. She was a little sorry for the loss, her hand still tingling from the contact.

Severus was staring at the floor now, lost in thought, and she tried to steer the conversation back into her control.

"So what are we doing out here then?" Severus sucked in a long breath, and she rephrased her question. "I mean, I know you want to 'protect' me and all, but what are we doing in the outback?"

"It's safe here," he answered simply, "no one can find us." She wondered at that... was someone looking for _him__, _too?

"But, I mean, you don't sound Australian... you're British, right?"

"Yes, like you."

"Right. ...so?"

"I told you I was looking for someone,"

"For Hermione?"

"...for Hermione."

"And you thought you'd find her here?"

"...I hoped I would... I hope I do."

His words sounded significant, but he didn't bother explaining.

"Then what are you doing here with me? Why aren't you out looking for her?"

Severus realized her questioning wasn't going to let up, and he wondered how much longer he could hedge it. He was glad to see that she still had her wits about her, but right now they were working against him. She was bringing critical things up far too soon.

"I don't intend to stop looking for her, but right now my concern is for your welfare. Speaking of which, sitting around in a wet towel all afternoon can't be good for you; why don't you get dressed, and I'll fix us some lunch."

Hermione could tell he was being evasive, but she decided to let it slide.

"Alright..." she conceded, "I'll go dry my hair."

Severus smiled politely and stood with her as she moved to walk back to the bathroom. Before he could rouse himself from his contemplation and move to the kitchen, Hermione had come back from the bathroom— now wrapped in her robe— and made her way across the room to the front door.

"Where are you going?" He asked in confusion.

"I told you," she smirked, "to dry my hair..."

She opened the door and walked out into the sunshine, leaving the door open behind her as she stretched her arms high above her and relished in the warmth, then doubled over suddenly and shook her hair out in front of her. Severus watched in unwitting captivation as she flung herself backwards and tossed her hair back over her head in a well-executed flip, laughing as she swayed slightly on the porch and elegantly regained her balance. She lifted an arm up to rest on the support beam beside her, leaning into it languidly and looking out over the horizon. She stood like that for a moment, then turned to look over her shoulder and smiled at Severus, who was still watching her. Severus blinked his eyes and remembered what he meant to do, and turned swiftly to the kitchen to make up some sandwiches.


	7. Chapter 7

_**A/N: Ughhh I'm really supposed to be working on another project right now (this started as a means of procrastination), but your reviews/fav's/alerts prodded me into continuing earlier than planned! This story's a lot of fun for me, I've even been making notes in my sleep. I hope you enjoy...**_

Chapter 7

Hermione wasn't used to the luxury of three meals a day, and was still full from her afternoon sandwich by the time Severus offered to make supper. She'd spent the day rather idly, and was now strolling around the perimeter of the place, secretly looking for tire marks in the dirt, wearing a pair of too-large sandals she'd unearthed from the living room closet. She was baffled that she didn't find any, and further baffled that she could only find a single set of boot tracks leading towards the house that seemed to appear out of nowhere. There was a slight disturbance in the dirt around the spot the tracks originated from, making it appear as if their maker had been dropped from the sky. As ridiculous as the notion seemed to her, she couldn't fathom an alternate explanation, and was continually unnerved by it.

Severus had watched her from the kitchen window as he tidied up after the small supper he'd eaten alone, wondering why she found the ground so fascinating. Her hair had long since dried and was flowing over her shoulders in light waves, illuminated by the setting sunlight, with each strand glowing brighter than the red, arid soil that stretched out for miles behind her. Suddenly aware that he was staring at her, Severus turned around and scanned the kitchen for anything else to busy himself with. Finding nothing left to tidy, he decided he wanted to clean himself off, still feeling the grime of the night before.

He wasn't one for baths, but the only shower was outdoors and offered little in the way of privacy, so he approached the bathroom with some reluctance. Draped over the side of the tub were Hermione's red tap shorts, which were still drying after she'd washed them out earlier. Severus stared at the garment critically, unsure how to handle it. Eventually he turned away, reasoning that he didn't care for baths anyhow and would much prefer showering later that evening after Hermione went to sleep.

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Hermione watched Severus making up his bed on the sofa, taking it to be his cue that he was getting tired and would be going to sleep soon. Despite the excitement of the earlier part of the day, the rest of it had been markedly uneventful, and she was far from worn out.

"Are you going to bed, then?" she asked, not disguising her irritation. Severus looked at her as if to say the answer was obvious. When she thinned her lips in frustration, he regarded her critically for a moment before making a suggestion.

"There's some books on the shelf over there that you're welcome to - it's just your standard muggle fare..." he paused mid-sentence, backtracking as she raised an eyebrow in incomprehension. "...that is to say, nothing too bracing... but I'm sure you'll find something worth your while."

Hermione scrunched her nose in distaste. "Books? What am I supposed to do with books?"

Severus was aghast at hearing the protest from the bookworm-to-end-all-bookworms, and scrunched his brows together in astonishment.

"You don't like to read?" He asked, as if the idea were inconceivable.

"No, why should I?" ...When he continued staring at her strangely, she begrudgingly explained herself.

"What, do you think me and the girls like to sit around _in our pasties_ in some kind of kinky book club?"

Severus felt a little foolish, even more so when he struggled to imagine what a "pastie" was.

"You do _know how _to read, don't you?" Though the question wasn't meant to sound condescending, it was certainly taken that way.

"Yes, I _can read_," she replied bitterly, "but I still don't sit around wasting time on books."

"Well why don't you try it, then? You might find the experience more rewarding than you expected." Severus was growing impatient, wanting very much for her to retire so that he could take his outdoor shower covertly.

"Forget it," she huffed, "I'll just go to sleep, then."

Severus watched her retreat for the bedroom, exhaling in irritation as she shut the door more forcefully than was necessary. He sat down and pulled out the book on memory charms that he was still working his way through, biding his time until he could creep outside without being noticed.

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Hermione had been lying in bed for several hours, unable to fall asleep. She still didn't know what to make of the man holding her captive, and was baffled by the unusual dynamic between them. He hadn't seemed too affected when he walked in on her pretending to pray, and she was starting to abandon the idea that he was some kind of religious maniac. There was something sweet about him, she thought, though she got the sense that he had a hard time showing it. He did seem awfully interested in her, and who she was... but to her slight dismay, that interest didn't seem as physical as she was expecting. She wasn't used to being around men that weren't lusting after her in some way or another, and was nervous about her lack of experience at dealing with a man of such remarkable restraint.

As she lay there trying to work out the puzzling mystery that was Severus Snape, her ears picked up the hissing of water being run. It didn't sound like it was coming from the adjoining bathroom, and was too dull to be coming from the kitchen, which was just across from the bedroom...

Hermione got out of bed and opened her door carefully, just poking her head out enough to see that the couch was empty. She tip-toed out into the living room, moving towards the hissing sound which seemed to be coming from just outside the opposite wall. Remembering the outdoor shower Severus had told her about, it suddenly occurred to her what was going on, and she thrilled with the knowledge, determined to sneak a peek at the naked man. With stealthy footsteps she crept toward the kitchen window and strained to see what lay further down the side of the place. Unable to get a clear view, she tried the living room window, only to encounter more obstacles. Undeterred, she crossed to the front door and slipped out onto the porch in bare feet, padding down the step and onto the still-warm dirt. All at once she became aware of the brilliant canopy of stars overhead, and was dazzled by the sight as she made her way to the side of the house.

Glancing around the corner, she was frustrated that a single wooden panel stood between her and the view of the otherwise open shower, and she took a deep breath as she resolved to keep going. She branched off into the darkness, making a wide circle outward, hoping to blend in with the shadowed shrubs that were scattered heavily around the perimeter. She kept creeping sideways until she nearly had a full view of the side of the house, then paused when she realized the man wasn't there.

A deep voice from behind startled her and she jumped up grasping her robe, spinning towards the sound.

"_Looking _for someone?" Severus drawled in his incomparable potions master voice, hiding his amusement behind a severely reprimanding glare. He had a towel wrapped around his waist and his hair was laying heavily around his head, and Hermione couldn't avert her eyes from his shapely form, which seemed to her like it was begging to be touched.

"I thought I heard something," she breathed out, still running her eyes over him approvingly.

"And you thought you'd come snooping around in the dark, did you? What did you think you'd find?"

Hermione smirked at him, and he frowned back at her.

"Get back inside then, there's nothing to see here." He waved a dismissive hand at her, expecting her to retreat like any other student who just received a dismissal from professor Snape. Instead she smiled wider, and moved towards him.

"Oh, I beg to differ..." she teased, cocking her head and slyly running a finger down his forearm. She paused when her finger reached the dark mark on his arm, and his hand snatched her wrist as she narrowed her eyes at the mark questioningly.

"Go back inside," he snapped, "it's late."

With another curious glance, Hermione took one last look at him before sighing and turning back toward the house. She'd had her fun, though it wasn't as exciting as she'd hoped it would be.

Severus sucked in a deep breath and waited for her to disappear into the house before moving to the porch, where he sat and looked out into the dark horizon. The night air was warm and dry, and— though he could have used his wand to dry off in a flash— he suddenly bent forward and shook his hair out, then flipped it back over his head with a small gasp of satisfaction.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Hermione woke from a fitful night full of heavy dreams, only vague flashes of which still remained with her that morning. Her face was sticky with dried tears and her eyes were puffy, and she realized that she had been crying, though she couldn't remember why.

She had the inexplicable feeling that something important had happened that night, so she closed her eyes and buried her face in her pillow, trying desperately to remember whatever it was that had been lost with the morning. All she could recall with any certainty were fleeting sensations: a gasp of recognition... a heaving sadness... an unknown terror... ... ...comfort... some gesture of comfort...

She struggled to pursue that last thought: someone must've been comforting her... was it... him? She thought of her captor, but something didn't fit right... it wasn't him, it couldn't have been him... it felt like someone she knew, but the man holding her captive was still a stranger to her... and yet, he still seemed significant somehow... almost as if he had _been there_...

This last thought sent a chill over her body. Had he been in her room last night? What would he be doing in her room? ...No, that couldn't have been it... maybe she'd dreamt about him. And yet, she still couldn't shake the strange feeling that he had been close to her... so close...

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Severus was already waiting for her with a pot of tea when she came out of the bedroom, raising an eyebrow when she approached him suspiciously.

"Good morning..." he drawled, taking up a teacup and pouring some of the freshly-made brew for her.

Hermione sat down across from him and took the cup her offered her, sniffing at it and scrunching up her nose.

"What kind of tea is this?" she asked, confused by the strange herbal aroma.

"It's a special blend of herbs that are used to simultaneously sooth and stimulate the mind," he explained patiently, "ideal for those who suffer from night terrors."

"How did you know...?" Hermione looked up at him expectantly, wondering if he had been in her room after all.

"I heard you," he said casually, "I sleep lightly."

Something about his explanation felt a little too simple to her, though it was perfectly reasonable. She stared into her teacup, unable to collect her thoughts.

"Please drink it," Severus urged, "It _will_ help."

Hermione still wasn't convinced that he was telling her the whole truth, but she was too out of sorts to think about it much further. Her head felt strange and her body had the airy weakness of one who'd been crying for a long time, so she figured the tea couldn't hurt. She took a small sip, and started to feel a gentle comforting sensation creeping into her almost immediately. Severus watched in satisfaction as she continued to drink down the special draught, smiling politely at her when she set down the empty cup.

"Better?" he asked, and she nodded. In fact, she felt immensely better, almost fully restored, though she was reluctant to tell him as much.

Severus took her empty cup and went into the kitchen, returning with a plate of potatoes, sausage and eggs. Hermione smiled at the food he set before her, not realizing how hungry she was. She was already stuffing a second bite into her mouth when he returned to the table with a tall glass of orange juice, and she looked up at him in slight confusion.

"What's all this about?" she asked, wondering why he went to so much trouble for her.

Severus shrugged as if it were a silly question. "I figured you'd be hungry..."

She eyed him curiously, impressed by his second display of remarkable insight that morning. She was too hungry to give it much more thought, though, and went to work clearing her plate.

Severus watched her as she ate. He was regarding her with a strange intensity again, as if working out a challenging puzzle. She pretended not to notice, though his gaze was practically searing into her. With one final gulp of her juice, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and leaned back in her chair, fixing a penetrating stare of her own onto Severus. He looked away quickly, and stood to clear the table. She continued staring at him as he lifted her plate and her glass, not averting her eyes as he moved to the sink and started washing up.

"I had a dream about you last night." Hermione noticed the way he stiffened when he heard her, pausing with her fork suspended in the air and throwing her another penetrating stare.

Hermione held his gaze, searching his face for clues just as much as he searched hers. Severus eventually exhaled carefully, and turned his eyes back to the sink.

"Oh?" He asked, his casual tone transparently forced.

"Well, I'm pretty sure it was about you, anyway..." she continued, narrowing her eyes as he shot her another look.

"I can't remember all of it... or much of any of it, for that matter, but I'm pretty sure _you were there_..." her last words were meant to sound significant, and she watched his face closely for any sign that they were hitting a blind target.

Severus kept scrubbing at her plate, though she was sure he'd cleared it of every last trace of food, and then some.

"Fascinating." Severus spoke after a few beats, in a tone that made her feel a little foolish despite her continued suspicions.

After setting down the dish and drying his hands, Severus turned around to lean back tensely on the sink, both hands grasping the counter on either side of him. He was looking down at Hermione awkwardly, deciding what to do.

"How are you feeling?" He finally asked.

"Fine..."

He kept staring at her, and she was starting to feel self-conscious.

Hermione was about to flat out ask him if he'd been in her room that night, when all of a sudden a shadow passed behind his head, followed immediately by a startling rumble. Hermione jumped and Severus turned swiftly toward the sound, reaching for his wand. The window behind him was rattling and marked by a large smudge, but everything beyond it was still and calm.

"What was that?" Hermione gasped, her eyes wide and darting between Severus and the window.

Severus covertly held his wand against his forearm, and backed away from the window slowly, waiting for any further sign of trouble before turning to Hermione with a dangerous look on his face.

"_STAY. HERE." _he demanded, and she gulped as he stealthily moved to the front door, glancing out carefully before slipping onto the porch. Hermione listened as his footsteps disappeared to the side of the house, then strained her ears against the silence that followed.

After a minute or so without hearing another sound, Hermione slowly crept to the front door and looked out, wondering if her captor was in some kind of trouble. Too curious to stop herself, she continued down the porch and peeked around the corner, straightening up when she saw Severus kneeling in front of the kitchen window, looking down at something on the ground.

"What is it?" she asked, causing him to look up at her with a frown.

"I told you to stay put."

"Well, I thought something might've happened to you..."

Severus arched his brows at her and stood up, then turned his gaze back to the ground.

Hermione walked up beside him and cried out when she saw what he was looking at.

"Oh no!" She gasped, bending down to get a closer look at the shivering animal.

A pretty little bird with dark wings and a light grey breast had crashed into the window, and was lying injured in the dirt, surrounded by some loose plumes. It had deep black feathers around its eyes, making it appear as if it were wearing a mask. Hermione was struck by the beauty of the frail creature, and was instantly sympathetic. Though it was clearly frightened, Hermione gently moved to pick it up, taking care not to lift below its wings, and held it soothingly against her chest.

"What are you doing?" Severus asked, surprised by the gesture.

"What does it look like?" She muttered in a quiet voice, not wanting to alarm the animal. She stood up carefully and started walking back towards the front door, looking down at her precious charge with tender mercy.

Severus watched her disappear around the corner before moving to follow her.

"You ought to leave it," he spoke authoritatively, "it's likely to die, and it'll only be more frightened indoors..."

"It might not die," she insisted, "we might be able to help it."

Hermione's eyes were rapidly searching the living room.

"Is there some kind of box anywhere that I can use?" she asked, looking up at Severus urgently.

"Honestly," he continued, "this isn't a good idea..."

Hermione huffed and walked up to him, looking at him with a determined expression.

"Here, take it," she spoke, lifting the creature toward him.

Severus looked affronted. "I don't want to hold it!" he said, backing away from her.

"Please!" She begged, appealing to him with greater urgency, "I need to find a box!"

Severus stood stiffly, looking rather unyielding, and she thought he was going to refuse to cooperate with her efforts. Then, with a pained sigh, he gestured for her to approach him again, and she carefully lifted the bird to his chest. He scooped it into his strong hands, gently enclosing his fingers around hers as she transferred the warm bundle of feathers to him. He looked at her and watched her eyes brighten with appreciation before she hurried off to dig through cupboards and cabinets before finding an old box full of assorted junk that she dumped out on the floor, scattering objects in a dusty heap.

She grabbed some towels from the kitchen and stuffed them in to line the box, then returned to Severus, holding it up for him to place the bird in. When it was safely nestled, she took the box to the table in front of the sofa and set it down, looking into it concernedly.

Severus watched her for a moment, then moved to the sink to wash his hands thoroughly.

"Can you bring me another towel?" She asked, looking at Severus earnestly.

"I think you've made it perfectly comfortable..."

"I need one to cover the box with," she insisted, "I need to make it dark."

Severus wondered at that, but did as she asked, bringing a towel over to her and sitting beside her as she draped it carefully over the box.

"It'll be more comfortable in the dark," she said in a quiet voice. He kept staring at her curiously.

"Perhaps it would do better to put the box in a closet, then," he suggested.

"Yes, good idea," she said seriously, before gently lifting the box and taking it into the bedroom, where she placed it in the dark corner of her closet. She listened for a moment for any signs of distress, then, assured that it was alright, she left it alone, quietly closing the door behind her.

She looked at Severus, who was still seated on the couch, and smiled at him softly before rinsing off her own hands, then crossed back to the sofa and sighed as she sat beside him.

"Its wings were both lying evenly," she spoke quietly, "so I don't think either of them were broken. It's probably just in shock, maybe head trauma. If we leave it alone for awhile it might recuperate..."

Hermione stared off dreamily, as if speaking in a haze. Severus looked closely at her, evaluating every word. After reflecting for a moment, he spoke to her:

"How do you know so much about injured birds?"

Hermione's eyes came back into focus, and she looked up at him with slight confusion, as if rousing herself from a daydream.

"What? Oh... I don't know, I guess it's just the kind of thing you pick up..."

Severus was clearly unconvinced.

"Where would you 'pick up' such a thing? I can't imagine there was a lot of time to care for wild animals in between dance routines..."

Hermione looked mildly offended, then thought about it a little further and scrunched her face perplexedly. "I don't know..." she repeated, "but I must've learned it somewhere... or maybe it's just the kind of thing you know intuitively...?"

"I doubt that very much." Severus answered, then thought about something before continuing.

"What about your childhood?" He asked carefully, hoping not to worry her with the question.

She looked concerned for a moment, then schooled her face into a defensive stance.

"What about it?"

"Surely you must've encountered an injured animal when you were younger?"

Her lips pursed together and she shifted uncomfortably, and Severus knew he was treading on tricky territory.

"I don't know, I guess so." She muttered. Severus was silent for a time before pushing her again.

"Do you remember much from your childhood?"

Hermione's eyes had been fixed on her lap, but darted off to the side away from Severus when he asked his last question, as if wanting to get away from it.

"No, not that much." She muttered again in a strained voice. Severus knew he was making her uncomfortable, but needed to press on.

"Do you remember anything about it at all?" he asked gently. Hermione's eyes darted around the room again before settling on her lap as she inhaled sharply.

"No, I guess not." Severus waited for her to continue, and when the silence pressed down on her, she did.

"I sometimes remember little things... like the way I was afraid of putting my head underwater... or how it felt doing somersaults... little things like that... ...then sometimes I think I can remember actual moments, like dropping a bracelet over the side of a bridge ...or scalding my hand in boiling water... but I can't remember specifics, just the way things felt. I'm not even sure they're real memories."

Severus was listening intently, noting every word.

"These are all sense memories," he spoke quietly, almost to himself. Hermione looked up at him nervously.

"I guess so," she said, wondering why it mattered.

"What about your parents?"

Hermione took another deep breath and looked into her lap again.

"I don't think I had any."

"You mean you can't remember them?"

"I mean they must not have been around, since I'd probably remember if they were."

"Perhaps you've only forgotten them?"

Hermione looked up at him indignantly.

"Why would I forget my own parents?"

"If you can't remember anything else from your childhood, it might be logical that you can't remember your parents, either... just because you can't remember specific events from your childhood doesn't mean that you _didn't have a childhood_, does it?"

Hermione sucked on her lower lip as she considered the validity of his words.

"So just because you can't remember your parents doesn't mean that you never had any."

"Oh, what does it matter, anyway?" Hermione huffed, suddenly rising from her seat, "I can't remember, so that's that."

Severus kept looking at her, but didn't push her any further.

"I'm going to check on the bird."

Hermione walked away and shut the door behind her as she went to sit in the closet beside the box she'd tucked away. She stayed there for the next couple hours, drifting in and out of different thoughts.

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When Hermione finally emerged from the bedroom, she found Severus hunched over the pile of junk she'd dumped out earlier, sorting through it and tossing most of it into a wastebasket. He was just about to dispose of an old handheld radio when she called out in protest.

"Hey, let me see that!"

He looked up at her in surprise, handing her the device after considering it for a moment.

She started twisting the dials, trying to make it work. Her face fell in disappointment when nothing happened.

"These batteries are dead," she said as she opened the side compartment, "do you have any others?"

Being raised in a muggle household, Severus knew what batteries were, but still had little experience with them. The question made him oddly uncomfortable.

"What for?" he asked, though he realized it was a stupid question.

"What for? So I can get this thing to work!" She answered impatiently.

"It'll just make a lot of noise."

"Umm, yeah, that's the point..."

"I'd rather not." He'd turned away and was scooping the rest of the pile into the bin.

"Come on, please? It's not like there's much else for me to do around here... I'll keep it where it won't bother you..."

Severus looked up at her like it was a lost cause. "Even so, I doubt I'll be able to find batteries for it."

"Oh, please do try... I'd really, _really_ love to get it working..."

"You're not likely to get a signal out here, anyway... you'd be listening to nothing but static."

"But it's so flat out here, it's not like there's much in the way to block any signals..."

"...So now you're an expert on radio waves, too, are you?"

Hermione smiled sheepishly, surprising herself with her own knowledge.

"Which reminds me..." Severus continued, standing up and moving to the living room table, where he picked up a book he'd left out, "I found this on the shelf and thought you might be interested."

Severus handed her the book, and she narrowed her eyes at it, seeing that it was a guide to local wildlife.

"...You might find your bird in there..." Severus offered, feeling self-conscious.

Hermione smiled up at him and held the book to her chest.

"Thank you," she said quietly, "I'll take a look."

Severus smiled back politely, his eyes still showing him to be unsure of himself, and he turned to finish removing the junk. He picked up the radio and regarded it critically, then set it aside on the kitchen counter.

When Severus returned to the living room after thoroughly washing his hands again, he smirked at the sight of Hermione curled up on the couch with her face buried in the book he'd given her. It was the first time since he found her that she resembled the Hermione he used to know.

Hermione looked up at him and smiled brilliantly, her eyes lit up with satisfaction.

"It's a woodswallow," she stated with assurance, "specifically a black-faced woodswallow. Its Latin name comes from the ancient Greek work for 'butcher,' though I can't imagine why... it seems like such a sweet thing..."

"Perhaps it has ulterior qualities..."

Hermione glanced up at him and smirked, then returned to her book. Severus took in the refreshing sight for another moment, then decided to leave her alone, walking out to the front porch.

Awhile later, Hermione appeared in the doorframe behind him, holding the nursing box.

"I heard it moving around - I think it might be ready to fly again..." she said with apprehension.

Severus turned and locked eyes with her before moving to lift the towel off the top of the box. They both peered inside to see an agitated looking bird ruffling its feathers, looking like it was about to take off. Hermione moved to the edge of the porch and set the box down, then took the bird up carefully into her hands. With one more look at Severus, who nodded in reassurance, she gently tossed the bird into the air, holding her breath as it flapped its wings and dropped down a little, then recovered quickly and darted up into the sky, flying a good distance before landing in a far off tree.

Hermione turned with a big happy grin on her face and saw that Severus had a peacefully contented look on his. In her excitement she rushed up to him and threw her arms around him, laughing sweetly. Severus tensed, breathing shortly as her laughter died and she pulled away to look into his face, her arms still clinging to him and her chest still flush against his.

"See?" she smiled, "It was alright after all."

Severus just looked at her, bewildered by her happiness and her proximity. He could smell the scent of the shampoo she'd used on her hair and could feel the softness of her breasts through his shirt, the smooth satin of her robe slipping fluidly against him.

"Shall I make us some lunch?" He asked, his voice coming out much more deep and sensuous than he intended. The sound unexpectedly thrilled her, reverberating against her chest and sending tiny waves of pleasure through her body.

"I'm not especially hungry yet, are you?" she asked in a too-soft voice that Severus, in turn, found uncommonly stimulating. Her fingers were ever-so-slightly stroking along his spine, her body almost imperceptibly arching further into his as he continued to hold her gaze, transfixed.

Hermione smiled slyly, then glanced at his mouth and started gradually leaning in towards it. With a smooth motion Severus caught her face in his hand and held her back, his face impassive as hers melted into an amused disappointment.

"Tea, then?" He suggested, lifting an eyebrow as he kept holding onto her face.

"I guess so," she breathed out with a languid smile, her eyelids heavy, "but make it sweet this time."

Severus flashed her a slight smirk and released her face, backing off as she reluctantly dropped her arms from around his torso. As he disappeared into the house, she wrapped her arms around herself and ran her hands sensuously over her body, her head light and buzzing with the aftershock of the close contact.

She still knew very little about the man, but she knew one thing about him for sure: he felt _good_.


	9. Chapter 9

_**A/N: Thanks to the reviewer who alerted me to a spelling error - I'm a stickler for details, so please don't hesitate to point out any errors I've overlooked; your attention is appreciated!**_

Chapter 9

"What's up there?" Hermione spoke suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence that had stretched between them as they had settled onto the sofa to read, full from another shared lunch.

Severus followed her upturned gaze to focus on the ceiling outside her bedroom, noticing a square hatch to an attic space.

"I've no idea," Severus muttered, clearly disinterested. "A dusty mess, most likely."

Hermione cocked her head at him.

"You don't know? ...This is your house, isn't it?"

Severus looked up at her briefly before focusing on his book again.

"No," he said at last, "I'm only occupying it temporarily."

"Doesn't anyone live here anymore?"

"No. The previous occupants will not be returning." He spoke with a finality that worried her, and her mind rapidly jumped to chilling conclusions.

"...What happened to them?" She spoke in a near-whisper.

Severus looked up impatiently, tired of her line of questioning.

"Suffice it to say they won't be returning, leaving me full license to occupy the place for the duration of my stay here."

Hermione studied him carefully, noting his unwillingness to provide her with any further details. Was it possible that the previous occupants were dead? If they were, he didn't seem too broken up about it... could he have _killed them_?

Hermione shook the thought away, banishing it to the back of her mind along will the rest of her wild speculations regarding her mysterious captor. She returned her attention to the attic, remembering a step ladder she'd seen tucked away in the living room closet. Without announcing her intentions, she rose from her seat and went to dig out the ladder, causing Severus to huff at her in annoyance when he realized what she was trying to do.

"Don't do that," he whined, "you're just going to get dust everywhere..."

She ignored him and set the ladder in place below the hatch, wobbling unevenly as she climbed up to the highest rung.

Severus exhaled in frustration, closing his book and moving to steady the ladder for her.

"Come down," he whined, "you might hurt yourself."

Hermione wasn't listening to him, but was pushing on the wooden panel, forcing it open and sliding it over. Only a little dust sprinkled down, causing Severus to turn his face away in irritation. Hermione was poking her head up through the opening, her eyes adjusting to get a full view of the space.

"There's some boxes up here," she said with minor interest, though Severus was unimpressed.

"I'm climbing up," she announced, already hoisting herself into the dark space before Severus had a chance to object. He watched her pull herself up, thrusting her upper body forward before swinging a leg up behind her. He was thankful she was wearing her red shorts, since he'd gotten a full view of her posterior.

Severus listened to the sound of shuffling and of something being dragged, watching as small trails of dust sprinkled down from between the boards.

"Move the ladder!" she shouted, and he begrudgingly complied, only to watch a large cardboard box drop down and land with a dusty clatter on the floor below.

"Hey! Watch it!" He spat, only for her to drag another box to the edge of the opening.

"Here's another; this one's heavy," she warned, "I'm going to lower it down to you, ok?"

Severus grumbled, but obligingly reached up when he saw her carefully lower the box down to him. He set it on the floor and looked up apprehensively.

"Are you going to empty the entire attic?" He complained, wondering how much dirtier he was going to have to get in order to humor her.

"Just a couple more," she assured him, already lowering another for him to catch.

When the last box was set down, Hermione started lowering herself before the ladder was back in place, her legs dangling in the air as she shifted over the edge.

Severus quickly moved to catch her, guiding her towards him as she slipped down with a laugh, landing in his arms with her hands on his shoulders as he clung to her lower back, her rear planted in his arms and her robe falling open in front of his face. He was wearing a nervous look— having caught her just in time— which deepened into an inscrutable expression when he caught sight of her open robe, her exposed breasts level with his eyes. He set her down gently, her hands still on his shoulders as he pulled the robe shut for her, his lips tight as he fumbled with the sash. He cocked an eyebrow when he looked up to see her smiling at him strangely before she raised herself to kiss the underside of his jaw appreciatively.

Before he had a chance to react, she pulled away and moved to the boxes on the floor, opening them eagerly.

"This one's just full of old Christmas ornaments," she huffed in disappointment, shoving the box to the side and reaching for another. She let out a cry of discouragement when she opened it to reveal even more festive decorations.

The third box was the same size as the previous two, and she opened it half-heartedly, expecting more of the same. To her extreme satisfaction, she found that this box was full of old clothes - old _girls' clothes! _She squealed loudly, and Severus leaned over curiously to see what all the fuss was about.

Turning to him with a wild look in her eyes, Hermione held up a pair of acid-washed, cut-off denim shorts, which he regarded disinterestedly. Undeterred by his lack of enthusiasm, she pressed the garment to her chest and squealed happily again, jumping up and down on her knees while she looked back into the box with excitement. She continued making girlish exclamations as Severus looked on, glancing back at the attic hatch that she'd left open.

Leaving her to her goodies, Severus pushed the stepladder back into place and climbed up to replace the covering, then put the ladder back in the closet. She was still sorting through the garments after he'd come back from washing his hands, and he glanced at the last unopened box.

"Aren't you going to see what's in the last one?" He asked, mildly curious.

"You open it," she said without looking up from the t-shirt she was examining, unable to divert her attention.

Severus eyed the box speculatively, then knelt beside it and ran a finger under the cardboard flap. With an elegant twist of his wrist he flipped it open, his eyes widening when the contents were revealed.

"What's in it?" Hermione asked, trying on a pair of canvas sneakers beside him.

Severus flipped the lid shut again and frowned. Hermione looked up, suddenly curious. She knelt across from him and opened the box, laughing in delight when she took in the contents.

"Oh, brilliant!" She exclaimed, reaching in and pulling out a well-worn pornographic magazine. Severus raised an eyebrow, still frowning.

"What's the matter?" She asked in disbelief, noticing his less-than-amused expression, "This is some classic material! There's stuff from the 70s and 80s in here!"

Severus pursed his lips and stood up, leaving her to flip through the smutty pages.

"It's not my kind of reading material." He mumbled. She smirked at him and held up a centerfold of a curvy brunette in a slutty schoolgirl uniform stretched out across a desk, her breasts exposed and her hand pushing down her white knickers. With some alarm, Severus immediately noted a resemblance to Hermione, and a slight blush rose to his cheeks.

"You're telling me this isn't your kind of thing?" She laughed, her eyes sparkling with recognition of his discomfort.

Severus just glared at her warily and returned to the sofa, opening his book to the page on which he'd left off.

She continued flipping through the magazines with interest, pausing to read an article from time to time and occasionally laughing out loud, causing Severus to glance at her. _At least she enjoys reading again,_ he thought.

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When Severus awoke from his nap, he scanned the room wondering where Hermione had gone off to. There was a pile of dirty magazines spread out in a half circle around the spot where she'd been sitting, and the box of clothes had vanished.

He was about to check the bedroom when he noticed that the front door was slightly ajar, and he walked out onto the porch to find Hermione spread across a folded quilt, lying on her stomach with her back to him. She was reading a magazine, and was wearing a pair of bubblegum pink bikini briefs, complete with a bandeau top which sported a matching ruffle across the bust. When she heard him approach, she turned onto her side to face him, smiling up at him behind a pair of cheap plastic wayfarer sunglasses with fluorescent green and pink ear stems.

"What do you think?" She asked, lowering her shades to meet his eyes, motioning to her outfit.

Severus just stared at her strangely, and she laughed at him.

"I'm glad you're enjoying yourself," he drawled, and turned back towards the door.

"Wait!" she called after him, and he turned to arch an expectant eyebrow at her.

"How about those batteries?" She asked meekly, flashing him a sweet smile. Severus' mouth twisted as he considered the request.

"I'll see what I can do."

Hermione's smile stretched wider and she rolled back onto her stomach, pushing her sunglasses back into place. Severus took in the sight for only a brief moment longer before returning inside and picking up the radio from where he'd left it on the kitchen counter. He knew he would regret it, but he sighed resignedly and pulled out his wand, muttering an animation spell over the device, then throwing in a sensitivity-enhancing spell to boost the receptivity of the receiver.

The machine sparked to life, hissing out a broken stream of static punctuated by occasional flashes of unintelligible sounds. With a deep breath, Severus carried the radio out to the porch, where Hermione leapt up enthusiastically and took it from him with a laugh, hugging it to her chest and leaning into him to shower his jaw with more soft kisses.

"Alright, that's enough..." Severus muttered, holding her back. "...Good luck getting a decent signal."

"Thank you," she smiled, her eyes a little glazed over with affection, "I really appreciate this."

Severus smiled back at her and retreated into the house, pausing at the door and deciding not to shut it all the way, even if it would block out the noise. He lifted a hand to his jaw unconsciously, smiling inwardly at the memory of her soft lips assaulting his skin.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Hermione had spent the better part of the evening trying to pick up a signal with her little radio, but could only maintain short bursts of weak reception between long stretches of static. Severus was becoming increasingly irritated with the sound. Though she had kept it far away from him, from time to time she would cross past him anxiously, explaining that she was just trying to chase a signal, ignoring his scowls.

Later that night, Severus could still hear the noise coming from her bedroom while he tossed and turned on the sofa, eventually sandwiching his head between two pillows to muffle out the sound. When his face started overheating, he swore under his breath and tossed off the pillow, drew his wand and cast a reverse muffliato spell around his bed, then sighed in relief as he was quickly encased in a soothing silence.

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_Severus groaned in delight as her warm body squirmed against his, her mouth at his neck, her hand caressing his chest beneath his t-shirt. The soft skins of their bare bellies were pressed against each other, rising and falling together in a sensual rhythm as their muscles eased and contracted. His erection swelled against her inner thigh through the barrier of his boxer shorts, and twitched in excitement as her tongue trailed up his neck and over his jaw, withdrawing at his earlobe as she bit down on it lightly._

"_Hermione!" He moaned, reaching up to grab the hair at the base of her skull. She pulled in a sensual gasp, grinding against his straddled thigh as the deliciously sharp pain shot through her, setting every nerve alight. _

"_Yes," she panted, "I'm your Hermione..."_

_His erection twitched again against her leg, and she smiled wickedly; "I'm whoever you want me to be..."_

Severus' eyes opened heavily and focused on the lascivious female astride him, awareness draining the delirious satisfaction from his face. His hand still gripping her hair, he shot up suddenly, releasing her as he desperately shifted her body away from his furious erection.

"_What do you think you're doing?_" he demanded, looking horrified.

"Don't be like that..." she replied softly, "we were just getting warmed up..."

Severus looked incredulous, swiping his hand through his hair while he fought to steady his breathing.

"I thought you might be lonely out here, so I came out to give you some company..." she cooed, running a hand down his chest. Severus gripped her wrist and stilled her hand, looking at her desperately.

"You _can't_ keep doing things like this," he insisted, "you have to stop behaving this way..."

Hermione looked at him disappointedly. "How come? I don't mind... and clearly, you don't either..." she said in a low voice, smiling as she nudged his still-hard cock with her leg.

Severus pulled in a sharp breath and twisted completely onto his left side, causing her body to fall away from him against the back of the couch. She let out a small cry of dejection.

"Because," he pleaded, "it's not right. I can't think of you in that way— and you shouldn't think of me that way, either."

"Is it because I'm not _her_?" she asked self-consciously, thinking of the amazing woman he'd lost. She was beginning to resent this 'Hermione.'

Severus lifted a hand to his brow, rubbing at the confused turmoil etching itself there.

"No, that's not it." he said quietly.

Hermione allowed a small smile to creep onto her face, leaning her head against her right hand as her left moved to trace a finger over his hip.

"Come on, then— what's the big deal? Admit that you like me just a little bit..."

She smiled playfully as he shot her a worried glance.

"Whether I 'like' you or not is of no consequence; there are _rules _that must be maintained..."

"Whose 'rules'?" she interrupted, "I don't follow anyone's 'rules'— I take what I want, whenever I can get it... that's _my _'rule.'"

Severus narrowed his eyes at her. "That's not a rule; that's an _excuse_."

"An excuse for what?" she teased, her hand trailing down towards his cock before he snatched her wrist and twisted it away from him.

"An excuse for misbehavior." he drawled, sitting up and turning his back to her as he waited for his blood to pump itself back towards his weightless head.

"Come," he muttered, standing up and holding a hand out to her, "get back to bed."

Hermione pouted at him before begrudgingly rising beside him, and for the first time he noticed the oversized, black t-shirt she was now sleeping in, which featured a _"*Mr. Zogs* SEX WAX *the best for your stick*"_ surf logo across the front (the double entendre of this muggle artifact was completely lost on Severus). The shirt was so large that it nearly covered the pair of tiny spandex shorts she was wearing underneath, which were printed with an abstract design of neon zig-zags over a speckled black and white background. It was an unusual look on the girl he had once been so accustomed to seeing in school robes - but not wholly unappealing, he decided.

"Will you come with me?" She smirked, leaning into him again before he stopped her.

"Good night." He insisted, making her pout her lower lip at him again before turning away. She looked over her shoulder impishly before closing the door behind her.

Severus swore to himself that he'd never reverse-muffliato himself around her again.

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Severus woke late that morning, surprised the sun had already risen above the window line by the time he opened his eyes. He couldn't remember the last time he'd slept in so late...

Above him the beams of the ceiling groaned dully, and he looked up to see them shifting under slight duress. He instantly guessed what was causing the disturbance: _what in Merlin's name was she doing on the roof?_

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"_I enjoy stealing! It's just as simple as that! WELL IT'S — just a — simple fact! When I want SOMETHING—AND—I DON'T WANT TO PAY FOR IT —I WALK RIGHT—THROUGH THE DOOR—I WALK. RIGHT. THROUGH. THE. DOOR."_

Severus shielded his still-adjusting eyes from the glare of the sun behind her as he took in the sight of Hermione sitting on the roof and singing along with her radio. She was wearing her prized cut-off shorts, which she'd paired with a white crop top. Her legs were splayed out in front of her and bent at the knees, her feet dressed in the dirty white canvas sneakers she'd found. She hadn't seen Severus squinting at her from several yards away, as her hair was covering much of her face as she twisted her body around to the music.

"_Hey alright!—if I get by—it's MINE—MINE ALL MINE!"_

Severus was trying to figure out how she'd gotten onto the roof... he circled to the side of the house, where he saw that she'd placed the step ladder on top of a small shed. He frowned as he wondered how she'd gotten the ladder on top of the shed...

"Good morning!" she called down to him, smiling triumphantly, "Look! It works up here!"

"I see that..." Severus shouted back.

She laughed and flung her hair around, resuming her dance.

"Be careful," Severus shouted at her, and she slowed to look at him obliviously.

"What? I didn't catch that!"

"I said 'be careful' up there — you're pretty high up..."

"Yeah, ok..." she called back, thrashing her head to the rhythm.

Severus grimaced at her recklessness, lingering to make sure she was stable before recoiling from the oppressive sunlight.

Through the open window in the kitchen, Severus could make out the muffled sound of the radio as he brewed his tea.

_...You're listening to 'double-dipped' Friday on 88.9, RAW FM! Coming up next is a second serving of Jane's Addiction, to satisfy your diabolical craving: we've got 'Sympathy,' their Rolling Stones cover off their self-titled, debut album..._

Severus heard Hermione shout something in appreciation, and smirked at her easy enthusiasm. As the DJ transitioned into another song, Severus decided to sip his tea in the front doorway, listening to her from under the furtive shelter of the porch awning.

"_...Please allow me to introduce myself, I'm a man of wealth and taste — I've been around for a long, long year, stole many a man's soul and faith..."_

Severus considered the lyrics amusing, being sung off-key and exaggeratedly by the wild creature on the roof. She trailed off for several stanzas, forgetting the lyrics— then wailed out louder than before:

"_PLEASED TO MEET YOU — HOPE YOU GUESS MY NAME! BUT WHAT'S PUZZLING YOU / IS THE NATURE OF MY GAME..."_

Severus balked at the irony, finishing his tea before returning to the kitchen to fix breakfast. By the time he had it all arranged on the table, Hermione was hollering along to another song she knew the lyrics to, her voice already faltering a little from all the strain. Severus went out to call her down, finding her laying on her back now with her arms bent over her head, singing up into the sky.

"_Oh let the sun beat down upon my face, stars to fill my dream ––– I am a traveler of both time and space, to be where I have been..."_

"Breakfast is on the table," he shouted up to her, and she rolled her head over and grinned at him.

"I'll be down in a minute!"

Severus tentatively walked back inside, wanting to supervise her climb back down. He loitered around the living room, listening beneath her for any sign of movement. Eventually another song started up which had her singing along desperately, as if she was trying to own every word she sang. When she still hadn't budged after several minutes, he impatiently went to call up to her again.

"Ok, I'm coming..." She sat up and stretched, then carried her radio over to the side of the house and began lowering herself onto the ladder, singing all the way.

"_But I still love you so—I can't let you go!—I loooove you, oh!—Baby, I love you, oh!"_

Severus tensed and quickly moved to the shed to watch over her descent, nervously eyeing the wobbling ladder as she fearlessly climbed down with the blaring radio in one arm.

"_Oh oh oh oh oh oh—every breath I take... oh oh oh oh—oh! Every move I make! Oh baby, please—Don't go..."_

She'd landed skillfully on the shed and set down the radio as she carefully lifted the ladder and lowered it down the the ground, with Severus stepping in to steady it for her, secretly impressed at her maneuvering.

"_You hurt me to my soul! Oh oh, hoo—oh — darling please, don't go..."_

Hermione paused on the climb down to hover over Severus enticingly as she sang the last lines. He held onto the ladder for another moment before impatiently gripping her around her waist and hoisting her down the rest of the way, prompting a small shriek and a delighted giggle.

"Can you turn that off now?" Severus complained, as static started creeping back into the signal. Hermione obliged with a small smirk, strutting away in front of him while he considered taking the ladder back in, then decided to leave it for her. He didn't like the idea of her climbing up there, but wasn't about to take her music away from her.

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"You seem pretty familiar with pop music..." Severus questioned as she sat down at the table with him.

"Hmm? Oh, yeah— that was a really great station! I can't believe I was able to tune into it!"

"Yes. How fortuitous. ...Clever of you to think to climb onto the roof..."

"It occurred to me last night, but I decided to try it after the sun came up."

"Hmm. ...But how do you know the words to all those songs?"

Hermione laughed nervously. "I don't know _all _the words... I don't think I was getting half those lyrics right... ...but, you know, most of those are classics. _Everyone_ knows them."

"Where do you know them from?" Severus was digging again, subtly prompting her to trace her own memories.

"I don't know— they're just played around, on the radio mostly..."

Hermione was furrowing her brow slightly as she scooped some beans up with her toast. ...Where _had _she heard those songs? She couldn't recall a single incident where she'd been consciously listening to any of them, and yet they were all so familiar...

Severus watched her furtively as she struggled with her memories, watchful for signs of distress. Eventually her attention returned to her meal, and she looked up at him with a small smile.

"This is delicious, thank you."

Severus returned the smile and dropped his gaze back to his plate. She was making slow progress, but he couldn't be too forceful with her. It was imperative that she came to certain realizations on her own, at least regarding the discrepancy of her own memories. At this stage Severus could only guide her, and hope that her mind was still sharp enough to follow his clues... ...and he was pretty certain now that she wasn't lacking in wit.

At the same time, Severus knew that he'd have to provoke stronger responses from her; he was operating within a limited time frame, and was facing a truly difficult — if not impossible — challenge.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

(How It Happened—Part I)

Only a few hours ago, Hermione had been fighting off Death Eaters at the Department of Mysteries, experiencing an exhilaration like none she'd ever felt before. She had been scared, of course, but that fear had somehow been muted by a fierce determination and a singular willpower that had been growing in her ever since her friendship with Ron and Harry had been concretized the night of the troll incident. It was more than just bravery: it was a headlong charge at the very real, very adult circumstances the trio were finding themselves in, and an unwavering acceptance of the responsibility those circumstances entailed. It was making a conscious decision to grow up too quickly, and doing so without regret, accepting the necessity of it. She didn't know if Ron or Harry felt the same way about what they were going through, but even if they were struggling with it, she believed she had the strength to carry the both of them with her: she could be strong for them, show them how to do what must be done.

But now, as she sat in the cold, dank dungeon that Dolohov had left her in, her strength was faltering. She wondered if this was because she was alone; whether her strength relied on having the boys to rely on her. As far as she knew, they might've been back at Grimmauld Place with Sirius and Lupin and the rest of the Order, worrying about her and trying to figure out where she'd been taken. None of them had seen Dolohov snatch her amid the commotion; they might have no idea how to find her...

Somewhere in the distance she could hear the hollow sound of far-off voices in argument. As she realized they were gradually approaching, she strained to listen, gripping the bars of her cell as she leaned in toward the sound.

"_I found her! I brought her here! She's mine to present to the Dark Lord!"_

She recognized the voice as Dolohov's, shuddering at the memory of his hands on her. The second voice was quieter, but even more malicious, and it only took a moment to identify it as the voice of Lucius Malfoy.

"_The Dark Lord is in no mood for your boastful attempts at ingratiating yourself with him, Antonin! You cannot seek an audience with him tonight!_"

"_Don't try to fuck with me, Lucius! You're just desperate to make yourself look good after your catastrophic failure!"_

"_Why you insolent..."_

"_That's right, you arrogant piece of shit! You can't talk down to me for much longer! You're going down! Your days are numbered!"_

"_I WILL NOT be spoken to in this manner by my inferior!" _Lucius spat out the last word with heavy malice, and in his voice there was the telltale quiver of a mind coming unhinged.

"_Get out of my sight Antonin, I'm through with you!"_

There was the sound of a tense shuffle, and if Hermione could look into the corridor beyond she would have seen the most terrifying expression on Malfoy's face as he seethed against Dolohov, who had backed him into a wall and had him pinned there with bulging eyes and a deep red face as he spat his next words in low, primal tones.

"_You're through alright, Malfoy. You might still be able to pull rank around here for a little while, but when you fall— and you WILL fall— I'll be wiping my ass with your hundred galleon, poncy fucking robes... do you hear me? You'll be less than shit on my shoe..."_

"_GET. OFF. ME." _

Lucius was so irate that he could barely force the words through his teeth, but after one last, hard look, Dolohov shoved off and disappeared down the corridor while Lucius summoned every ounce of his willpower not to hex him in the back. He was treading on thin enough ice as it was, and could not risk incurring any more of Voldemort's displeasure. Since Voldemort had returned, the Dark Lord had not allowed anyone to speak to him for hours as he tortured Lucius repeatedly in front of the rest of the Death Eaters, pausing only to deliver drawn-out, accusatory monologues directed at Lucius and others, though only Lucius received the full brunt of it. When he'd at last dismissed Lucius and the rest of the room from his sight, Lucius felt certain he wouldn't be spared from being sent to Azkaban for his failure, and was nearly resigned to this fate until he'd overheard Dolohov and Grayback arguing over how to approach the Dark Lord with the news of Hermione Granger's capture. Recognizing this as a last chance, Lucius wasted no time asserting his not yet retracted authority over the two and demanded that he take charge of the prisoner.

At the sound of his approach, Hermione slunk back as far as she could into a dark corner, hopelessly wishing the ground would swallow her up. Aside from Voldemort himself, Lucius Malfoy was the last Death Eater she wanted to see at that moment. She had watched him battling at the Department of Mysteries after he'd lost the prophecy; had seen the rage that distorted his features as he took on Sirius Black— and after hearing his exchange in the corridor with Dolohov, she expected he'd be in fouler spirits than ever.

His face was obscured by shadow as he stood before the bars of her cell, tall and dark and ominous as Death itself. He was so still and quiet that he almost didn't seem real to her, and in her terror she irrationally wondered if he was only a phantom, until he silently moved to enter the cell.

"Get up." He demanded in a voice that was so unexpectedly calm that it frightened her more than a shout might've, and every muscle in her froze. She wanted to obey him, but couldn't get her body to cooperate with her.

Lucius visibly tensed as his latent rage started seeping back over the calm composure he'd attempted to display.

"GET. UP." He tried again, still frozen in place. For the life of her, Hermione could not stand.

"I—I can't..."

Lucius suddenly lunged forward and gripped her arm, roughly dragging her to her feet. As he released her with disgust, her legs wobbled but she managed to stay in place, somehow functional again after his physical contact broke the temporary spell her mind had put her under. He was no phantom, no matter how much she wished to pretend otherwise. She was really there, alone in a Death Eater dungeon with Lucius Malfoy, with no wand and no plan and no Ron or Harry.

Lucius stayed silent for a long while; danger seemed to roll off him in waves, smothering Hermione as she second-guessed every moment, waiting for him to strike. She knew he wanted to hurt her; she could _feel_ it as sure as she could feel the erratic spasming of her own heart.

Finally he spoke, and though his words were deadly quiet and almost chillingly seductive, to hear them was a release, and her chest ached as she allowed air into her lungs once more.

"...Do you know what you and your little friends have cost me? ...Do you have _any_ idea how your foolish game may well have destroyed my entire career?"

Hermione stared at the ground, hoping he didn't expect her to answer him.

"...look at me, child."

"_I'm not a child." _

Hermione muttered it so quietly that she didn't realize she'd spoken it out loud, but Lucius hadn't missed it. The next moment he had seized her chin and forced her eyes to meet his, and the fury behind his eyes hurt to look into.

"You _are _a child... a little fool who believes she's big enough to play games with Death Eaters... ...but it's not a game any more, is it?" Lucius' mouth drew up into what might've resembled a smile if his eyes weren't still drilling fury into Hermione's.

"...No... it's about to become very, _very _real for you... ...you're about to learn what happens to little girls who try to pass themselves off as adults in the real world... and I daresay you won't be a 'child' anymore, once I'm through with you..."

Hermione's eyes went wide and her heart lurched up into her throat as she watched Lucius step back and pull out his wand, his eyes half-crazed with ferocity, half-glazed in what resembled a perverse lustiness. Whatever he was about to do, he was going to enjoy it.

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When Hermione at last began to regain consciousness, she was certain she was dead; she could see tiny lights passing over her as she floated weightlessly along, drifting down some dark and endless path. She closed her eyes and let herself be carried to who-knows-where by who-knows-what force, too tired to care.

Soon she started to become aware of her own body, and the unrelenting pain that seized it. This couldn't be right; there shouldn't be this much pain... she'd always heard that death was painless...

She winced as she flexed her fingers, fearing they might be broken. As she opened her eyes again and tried to focus, she found that her left eye was quite swollen, and so she relied on her right eye alone to discover that she was floating down a long hallway underneath flaming sconces. Someone must've been levitating her, but she couldn't see who it was.

Finally she stopped, and was released from the magic that suspended her only to be dropped brutally onto the hard floor. She managed to roll onto her side, clinging to her aching ribs as she sucked in labored breaths.

"Wait here."

She froze at the sound of his voice, which by now was the most hated, most offensive to her ears. She didn't dare look up at him, less out of fear than out of a need to spare her exhausted eyes from the loathsome sight of his cruel face.

A door opened, and Lucius cleared his throat.

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Severus was grateful for the interruption, having listened long enough to Voldemort's acerbic denunciations of Lucius in between his persistent questioning to determine whether Severus would be fit to take his place. Severus appeared gracious for the opportunity, but secretly detested the idea, knowing it meant he'd have to spend even more time with Voldemort. He suspected that Dumbledore, however, would be thrilled with the promotion, which made him even more bitter about it.

"Luciussss..." Voldemort hissed, narrowing his eyes as they landed on his most despicable servant, "You _dare_ to appear before me again tonight?"

Severus tensed as his eyes met Lucius' for a moment, instantly recognizing the hatred radiating from him. Lucius must've realized why Severus had been called for a private audience.

"I beg your pardon, my Lord, but I have something I think you'll be pleased to see..."

"Is it the prophecy, Lucius?" Voldemort mirthlessly joked, "Have you somehow restored it? _That_ is all I asked of you... anything less will be _sorely _disappointing..."

Lucius swallowed his fear and pressed on, determined to redeem himself.

"It is a prisoner, my Lord!" Lucius tried desperately, betraying his anxiety.

Voldemort paused and bent his head back, eyeing Lucius sternly.

Severus braced himself, afraid to know who Lucius had captured in his desperation. Voldemort was clearly bloodthirsty after his unsuccessful fray with Dumbledore, and whoever Lucius presented would certainly not be shown a shred of mercy.

"Unless you've brought me Potter himself, you're wasting my time..."

"Not Potter, my Lord," Lucius sputtered, "but someone whose death would surely hurt him! Ruin him, even!"

Voldemort considered the offer silently, concealing his curiosity. After another tense pause, he spoke softly,

"Show him to me."

"Not _him, _my Lord..." Lucius corrected as he flicked his wand towards the door, sending Hermione flying forward to land on a heap beside him.

"It is Potter's little companion, the mudblood Granger."

Severus' eyes widened and he held his breath as he took in the battered sight of his young pupil bent and shivering on her knees before him, her eye blackening and her lips bloodied. As she slowly raised her head to survey her surroundings, her eyes immediately fell on his, as if he had drawn them to him. A look of astonishment overcame her and her mouth fell slack... she then managed to form one word, which was whispered in bewilderment:

"_Professor?..."_


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

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Hermione stood in a dark room surrounded by three figures, each more terrifying to her than the next as she slowly registered their individual forms. The room was swirling around her; at times she couldn't tell up from down, and lurched forward to the floor only to be thrown back and upright again; the room would expand larger and larger until the three men were just faraway points at an unfathomable distance from her; then it would contract smaller and smaller until it seemed they were smothering her with their fearsome proximity. She wanted to get out of there, call for help, but her voice came out in muffled tones that were swallowed up instantly by the terrible room. The three men were talking to each other, but she couldn't hear what they were saying— their voices came out flat and muffled, too, and they seemed at once frightfully near to and a million miles away from her. Hermione closed her eyes and wept— the only thing it seemed she was still able to do— and wished and wished that she would just wake up from this awful nightmare.

The next moment she was crying softly into her pillow, heavy sobs wracking her body as she struggled to calm down, her mind slowly accepting the idea that it had only been a dream, after all. Something about it felt terribly wrong, though, and even the comforting sensation of damp cotton against her cheek couldn't assuage the nagging sense that she really had been in that room with those horrible men.

"_Protego suppressio... protego insomnium... protego suppressio... protego insomnium..."_

_What was that? _Hermione stilled her sobs and listened to the low and soothing voice that sounded from behind her.

"_Protego suppressio... protego insomnium..."_

It was so quiet she had to strain to hear it, but there it was, sure enough; the dulcet tones of his gentle voice were familiar to her, but his words were not. _What was he saying, and why was he in her room?_

"_Protego suppressio... protego insomnium..." _he spoke them once again, so gently now that they came out as little more than a whisper, and then was silent.

Hermione waited to hear the strange words again, but they never came. Her eyes were growing heavy and she could feel the hooks of slumber pulling at her exhausted mind, but she had to find out what was going on. Slowly she turned to face the man beside her, only to look into empty darkness. She was sure he'd been there; she hadn't dreamt that voice, those strange words... but she was too tired to worry about it just then. She allowed her puffy eyes to close and drifted off into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.

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Severus woke with exhaustion, still feeling drained from another trying night of powerful legilimency. He could not find what he sought when he'd entered Hermione's mind again, and had to try bringing her into his, hoping his own memory of the night of her capture would register with her. She had fought it, though, with unprecedented willpower, the strength of her denial distorting her vision and inhibiting her realization. Severus had encountered memory charms of this power before, but he had never been so determined to disentangle them. He _would _find her, locked away somewhere in the tempestuous depths of her mind... He _would_ bring her back.

Pulling out his stores of precious herbs, he began fixing the reparative tea that both of them were in need of that morning. His stomach growled like clockwork, announcing the rapacious hunger that inevitably follows deep legilimentic exercises.

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Hermione woke to the angry sounds of her own stomach, moaning into her bedsheets, still too tired to rouse herself. Eventually her hunger beat her exhaustion, and she begrudgingly tossed the sheet aside and pulled herself up to slump at the edge of her bed.

She had that awful swimming feeling in her head again, as if her brain had turned into little fishes sloshing around in a half-empty bowl. Suddenly the smell of bacon hit her like a holy revelation, and her eyes snapped open as she rose unsteadily to follow her nose.

Before she left the bedroom she paused at the oval mirror to regard her tear-streaked face, her eyes still slightly puffy from crying in her sleep. She furrowed her brow trying to remember what dream had roused such a reaction from her, but couldn't recall more than an achingly hollow feeling. She did, however, remember waking to the sound of his voice speaking strange words over her, and though his intent didn't seem diabolical, there was something darkly unsettling about the incident.

Severus heard Hermione emerge and head to the bathroom, and he strained their tea while she splashed cool water on her face.

He noticed the apprehensive way she approached him again, but remained casual in an effort to make her relax. She sat down and took the teacup he set before her, sniffing it again as she glanced up at him, then carefully raising it to her lips, remembering the relief it brought her last time.

"Would you like two eggs or three?" Severus asked, though he already knew what her answer would be— he just wanted to initiate conversation.

"Three, please."

Severus nodded and cracked another egg, his stomach still grumbling impatiently.

Soon breakfast was served and both were silently devouring their meal, the effects of the soothing tea already having ebbed away the last of their weary befuddlement.

After the last scrap of food had been finished, Hermione set down her fork and patted her mouth with a napkin, fixing her eyes on Severus.

"Were you in my room last night?"

Severus froze, rapidly processing her question before schooling his expression into a look of mild interest.

"Of course not... why do you ask?"

_He was lying! Why would he lie about it?_

"You didn't hear me crying? You didn't come in to comfort me?" Hermione glared at him suspiciously.

Severus paused before answering gently, "I did hear you, but I was not compelled to approach you. Eventually you quieted down on your own."

Hermione was now very suspicious. She knew she'd heard his voice, and that he'd been beside her when she woke. Why wouldn't he admit as much? It wasn't such a scandalous idea, comforting a crying girl... unless he had other reasons to be scandalized for being caught in her room... and _what _were those words he'd whispered over her?

As Hermione's mind attempted to justify the situation, Severus rose suddenly from his seat and took up their empty plates, curiously eager to start washing up. Hermione narrowed her eyes at his back as she studied him, unable to fathom the man. Frustrated, she stood up and left the table to run herself a bath.

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Later that afternoon she was back on the roof, tuning her radio. She'd lost the station she'd enjoyed the day before, and was patiently trying to find it again. Every so often she'd pick up a signal from another station, furrowing her brow as she listened to muddled talk radio, or strange foreign tunes from Asia on a world music station.

The sun was beating down on her and she was getting quite uncomfortable, starting to question whether it was worth all the effort. In the shed below, she'd seen a faded old beach umbrella propped up against the side behind a wheelbarrow, and she wondered if she could find a way of securing it to the roof...

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Severus sat in the bathroom on the closed lid of the toilet, a makeshift pensieve resting in his lap. The rudimentary device (namely, a large mixing bowl full of enchanted water) could only vaguely reflect the memories poured into it, rather than drawing the viewer down into them to re-live them. Only visions could be perceived in the bowl; no sounds could be heard.

He'd been reviewing his own memories again, studying Hermione as if just by looking at her he could somehow figure out a way to bring her back. He knew these memories better than the back of his hand by now, and disparagingly drew them back into their vials, finding nothing he hadn't already seen before.

As he skimmed the contents of his little silver box of encapsulated memories, there was one vial his fingers withdrew from. He hadn't looked at it since he'd bottled it, and was reluctant to do so now. Though part of him was perversely compelled to see its contents once more— if only to rekindle the shame he felt he deserved— another part felt that to do so would be too much of a violation of her privacy; a desecration of the trust she'd placed in him when that memory was made. And so he closed the box, saving the memory for a later time; a time he both feared and ardently awaited.

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Hermione was sweating now and losing patience, figuring that the umbrella idea would be worth a shot. The static fuzz from the radio was wearing on her sanity, frying her nerves as the sun fried her skin. She decided to climb down and look for some tools that she might use to anchor it to the roof somehow, anxious to get out of the sun for a little bit and splash some cool water on her face.

As she moved to lower herself to the ladder, her weak grasp faltered and the radio slipped suddenly from her sweaty hand, sliding down the roof and over the far edge before she had a chance to grab it.

Hermione held her breath in agony as she watched it disappear over the side, certain it would be smashed beyond repair. With a groan of remorse she lowered herself onto the ladder and climbed down to the shed, already mourning the loss of her favorite toy. As she lifted the ladder off the shed and lowered it to the ground, she paused suddenly as her ears picked up a familiar sound— _was it...? YES! Static! Crisp, clean, beautiful static!_

All of a sudden the once grating sound had become a blessing to her ears, and she was hurrying down the ladder to rush to it, jumping off half-way in a hurry and scrambling around the corner to find her miraculously unbroken treasure.

There it was, lying on its side in the dirt and still in one piece, buzzing away as brazenly as ever! It must've bounced off one of the bushes, she reasoned— thank God for small favors!

As she moved to pick it up, she stopped short when she noticed something lying beside it... two somethings, as it happened...

Her eyes went wide as she realized what they were; _batteries! Why would it still be making noise if the batteries had fallen out?_

Hermione circled the inexplicable phenomenon on the ground in front of her, trying to understand how it was possible...

All of a sudden the raspy noise that had moments ago been so welcome to her ears assaulted her reason, sending a cold chill through her as she struggled to stay calm.

She dare not touch the spooky machine, fearing it as if it were cursed. _Maybe it WAS cursed...!_

As she stood contemplating a variety of senseless possibilities, her mind was soon flooded with all the thoughts she'd suppressed regarding her strange captor: she recalled the way he had miraculously healed after she'd stabbed him in the side that first night with the shears; a wound she was sure had been worse than he'd let on... she recalled the mysterious tracks in the dirt that had seemingly originated out of nowhere, and the inexplicable absence of tire tracks... she thought of the previous occupants of the house that he didn't want to talk about, and her chilling notion that he might've murdered them... she recalled the dark tattoo on his inner forearm that she'd spotted that night after his shower, remembering how he seemed upset when she noticed it... and then there were those weird black clothes he was always wearing... not to mention those times she'd woken up and thought he had been in her room, and those esoteric words he'd chanted over her... that peculiar herbal tea he brewed... and now, to top it all off: her radio was playing _all by itself, without battery power_...!

.

With the sudden onslaught of anxiety, Hermione's mind reeled as dozens of thoughts coalesced into one harrowing theory of monstrous proportions. The shock of it all brought last night's dream to the forefront of her thoughts, and with startling clarity she at last remembered what her mind had allowed to slip away into obscurity that morning: she'd been in that awful room with those horrible men... they were regarding her greedily— hungrily, even— discussing their plans for her... plans she couldn't recall, but she was sure they involved some kind of sacrifice... _YES! That was it!_ They were going to sacrifice _her! _That's why they wanted her... _that's why HE wants her! HE was there! He was one of them— the dark one! It wasn't a dream... it was real! _

If she'd been uncertain before, it had now been made frightfully clear, though it still defied reason and disproved everything she thought she knew about the world of men...

...

She was— at that very moment— trapped in the clutches of a real life _Satan worshipper!_

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_**A/N: Sorry to leave you guys on another cliffhanger - I'm going to be extremely busy this week (and pretty much the rest of the month) working to meet approaching deadlines, but I promise to continue the story as soon as I get a break! In the meantime feel free to yell at me :) - Thanks for your feedback!**_


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

When Severus emerged from the bathroom, he was determined to make significant progress with Hermione that afternoon. The legilimency exercises he'd performed the previous night had been less than fruitful, and he was running out of time. Somehow he'd have to push her harder without pushing her away.

He figured he'd start by asking more direct questions about her past, though this time he wouldn't let her worm her way out of his questioning if she started getting uncomfortable. Somehow he'd have to convey to her that his questions were important, though he still wasn't sure how he'd accomplish this.

He took a deep breath and stepped outside, pausing when he heard the buzz of static nearby. When he looked down and saw her radio abandoned and lying on the ground, a surge of panic ran through him as he realized something might've happened to her... _he knew he shouldn't have let her mess around on that roof!_

Severus ran out to scan the ground for her fallen body, terrified of finding her on the ground somewhere, twisted and lifeless with a broken neck. After _all this_, after _everything_, would she really be lost to _gravity_? Could fate be so cruel?

When he didn't find her where he expected to, he quickly circled the house, scanning every inch of ground with his desperate eyes. Relief slowly flooded into him as he realized that he wasn't going to find her lying in a heap somewhere after all. ...But if she hadn't fallen, where was she?

The radio was still buzzing away as he circled back to the front of the house, glancing over the roof and not finding her there, either. He frowned as he looked down on the radio in confusion, wondering what else it could mean. Then he noticed them: two large, black batteries were lying on the ground just beside the open compartment, clearly superfluous to the device they were meant to be powering. She must've seen them; must've figured it out... but then... did she know?

Severus looked up anxiously, worried about what kind of reaction the sight might've caused in her. The blasted machine was still hissing at his feet as if it were mocking his foolishness, and he bent down in frustration to switch it off. As soon as the noise died, his sharp ears picked up another sound as they honed in on the encompassing silence; it was soft and nervous, and the very fact that it didn't want to be heard made it all the more noticeable to him.

Rounding the house again, he carefully approached the shed where he could now clearly hear the sound of muffled sobbing. He hesitated at the door, unsure what to expect from her now. Perhaps, having witnessed the magic of the radio, her memories had returned to her... it seemed much too easy, and highly unlikely, but would explain why she was now sobbing to herself in a dark tool shed... unless, he wondered, she'd simply been frightened and confused by it...? As strange as it sounded, this wasn't the Hermione he knew anymore; maybe _this _Hermione was scared of the inexplicable...

With a gentle tug, he pulled open the shed door and looked inside. He didn't see her right away, but as he opened the door wider he saw something shift in the far corner as she tugged her legs tighter to her chest and sucked in a sharp breath. The look on her face was enough to send a cold shiver through him as he recognized the genuine terror expressed in it. She was utterly petrified.

After staring at her for a moment, he slowly bent down to her level, trying to seem less intimidating. The look she gave him indicated that she clearly wasn't placated.

"Hermione?" he tried, his voice strained, "Are you alright?"

"_Don't call me that_," she whispered, a shuddering sob following her words. He frowned slightly; apparently her memory hadn't changed.

Severus had no idea how to approach the subject of the radio, and was feeling decidedly awkward. "...Do you want to talk about it?" he offered, looking up at her with a slightly pained expression. She just glared back at him through wide watery eyes, trembling with tense muscles. Severus feared that she was overreacting, and wondered why she was so upset.

"Look... do you mind if we move this conversation into the living room?" he whined, "I can't squat here like this all afternoon..."

"_I'm not going anywhere with you_," she spoke again in that terrified whisper, "_just get away from me..._"

Severus regarded her thoughtfully, then slowly slid further down to sit begrudgingly in the dirt, grimacing as he considered the state his black slacks would be in. With a slightly aggravated sigh he leaned back into the door frame and balanced his arm on his knee as he tried to make himself more comfortable, glancing over at her with an aggrieved look as she continued to shudder in the corner.

"As you can see, I'm not going anywhere, so you might as well talk to me."

Hermione continued to stare at him defensively, and he noticed with some concern that she hadn't relaxed even after his strategic repositioning. Though it seemed absurd to him, the radio must've well and truly spooked her...

After a tense silence stretched out between them for several minutes, Severus noticed that Hermione was shivering more violently, apparently growing more and more tense as he sat with her. He could sense an intensity radiating from her that unnerved him, and he was afraid that if he didn't calm her down soon, the risk of a traumatic psychological episode might threaten to set them back much further in their progress than he could afford. He rose slowly, trying to appear as harmless as possible as he spoke.

"Listen... you're upset, I see that... how about we go inside and I make you some calming tea? ...You need to calm down, I don't want you to hurt yourself..."

As he inched towards her, she rose with him, her eyes widening even more as she slid up against the wall, pressing herself as far back as she could as she took on the appearance of a cornered animal caught in a trap.

"Please, come inside with me," he tried again, reaching out a helpful hand.

As trapped animals are liable to do, she suddenly lashed out at him as he got close enough to touch her, desperately trying to slip past him as she screamed, "_NO! DON'T TOUCH ME! I KNOW WHAT YOU ARE!"_

Severus reeled back in shock, raising an arm to shield his face as she clawed at him viciously, his other arm attempting to control her as he struggled to wrestle her into submission.

"Stop it!" He cried, "Please! Stop this! You'll hurt yourself!"

Hermione tried to duck past him then, nearly fleeing the shed before she felt his arm hook around her waist and pull her back against him with surprising strength. The adrenaline rushing through her veins made her surprisingly strong as well, though, and she managed to wriggle around enough to claw at his face again, leaving angry red steaks down his left cheek and across his neck as he backed her into a wall with an unintentionally rough body slam, grasping her wrists and pinning them beside her head as he struggled to control his breaths. She squirmed against him helplessly, tears streaming over her face as he relaxed his grip and pushed off her body just enough not to hurt her, but it was enough to allow her to spike her knee brutally into his groin. With a yelp he released her as his hands moved instinctively to his throbbing injury, and she took off with a mad dash out into the sprawling brush, not thinking of where she'd go or how she'd survive, but wanting only to get as far away from him as she could.

Severus watched her retreating form for just a moment as he considered his next move, but couldn't see any way around it. With a deep frown he drew his wand and fired a well-aimed "_Sonambulus!" _at her back, watching in dismay as she collapsed in a dusty cloud.

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As he knelt beside her unconscious body, he felt an acute twinge of guilt as he noticed the red dirt that had settled most heavily along the tear streaks that ran down her face, leaving long red marks that must've resembled those that she'd clawed into him. If he'd known it would've upset her so, he never would've charmed the damned radio in the first place... he'd known it was a bad idea at the time, but when she'd asked him so hopefully that day on the porch... glancing up at him with big brown eyes and dressed in that pretty pink bikini... _oh, but hadn't she played him for a fool! _How easily he'd fallen into that trap, succumbing to her wishes as if a half-dressed woman... girl... need only bat her lashes at him to get him to do her favors. _Him! _Severus Snape, master manipulator, deceiver of the Dark Lord and occlumens extraordinaire. It was patently ridiculous.

He sighed as he gently lifted her up into his arms, trying to ignore the tightening in his chest as her head lolled against him peacefully, her eyes closed in deep slumber. He held her still for a moment, looking at her with a slight frown as he studied the dirt marks and the strands of hair sticking to her face, inexplicably compelled to brush them away. With a deep breath he held her closer and made his way back to the house, nearly convincing himself that he was taking his time simply because he didn't want to disturb her. _Nearly_, that is, because it would be just too convenient to actually forget that one under the spell of a sonambul charm is impervious to disturbance for up to an hour after falling under it. _Still, no need to take any chances..._

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As he laid her down on the sofa, Severus tried not to cringe at the dirt that was settling across his sleeping place. For all his magical skill, he'd never been much good at cleaning spells— especially when it came to cleaning dirt out of tricky fabric fibers. He realized he'd be better off giving the cushions a good beating later on. As for the girl... he went to the kitchen to run some water over a towel, then returned to sit beside her as he wiped away the streaks and smudges that marred her face. He worked with delicate precision, watching her eyes nervously as if fearing his touches might wake her prematurely. When he was at last content that he'd seen to every trace of dirt on her face, he moved to her neck and arms, then down to her legs, noticing a fresh scrape on her knee. After cleaning it gently, he healed the simple wound with his wand, absentmindedly running a thumb over the clean skin after watching it repair itself. His eyes then went to her clothes, which were in quite a state. The cutoff shorts weren't so bad, and a few swipes of his damp cloth had them looking somewhat improved. Her white t-shirt was another story, however, and he debated whether to replace it with something clean. He soon abandoned that line of thought, though, realizing that there was a good chance she wasn't wearing anything underneath, and though it wasn't anything he hadn't seen already, he doubted she'd appreciate him undressing her while she was unconscious, especially if only for the sake of a bit of dirt.

His own clothes were another matter, and he was surprised to find that he was not uncomfortable changing in front of her; though he suspected he wouldn't feel quite the same if she hadn't been unconscious.

After pulling on a fresh black shirt and pair of slacks, Severus went to the kitchen to prepare a soothing tea for when she woke. He hoped she'd be in a better state then, but not wanting to take any chances, he pocketed a stronger calming draught just in case.

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Hermione woke to the sweet smell of chamomile blossoms, mint, rose petals and lemon balm, and the warmth of another's body beside her hip. As she opened her eyes and looked into the mildly concerned face of Severus Snape, for just a fleeting moment she felt more safe and secure than she'd felt in ages. That moment was soon dashed away, however, as recollection came back with a vengeance, and she shot upright as she scrambled to attempt another haphazard escape.

"Be still," he commanded, placing strong hands on her shoulders and pressing her back down onto the pillow behind her.

With wide, frantic eyes and heaving breaths, Hermione glared up at him as if daring him to make his next move. Severus relaxed his grip and moved back cautiously with a look of warning in his eyes, debating whether or not to force the calming draught on her.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he spoke slowly, delivering each word with careful intonation, "but you may hurt _yourself_ if you carry on this way..."

Hermione stayed perfectly still, though her breathing only slowed a fraction.

"Now... I know you've seen that the radio has been charmed... and know that must've been alarming for you, and I intend to answer whatever questions you want to ask, but first I must insist that you drink this."

Hermione's eyes darted nervously to the tea cup he lifted from the side table, fearing whatever insidious ingredients he must've dosed it with.

"Do you really think I'm that stupid?" she whispered, her voice coming out much smaller than she expected.

Severus raised a vexed eyebrow, expecting her reluctance but nonetheless annoyed by it.

"I assure you that it's just a simple tea of soothing herbs. It will make what I'm about to tell you easier for you to digest."

Hermione scoffed, "I'm sure... I don't doubt it'll make me _very _compliant..."

Severus gave her a disapproving frown. "Not in the way you're suggesting. You're clearly still upset, and I won't risk upsetting you any further until you've calmed down enough. The tea will help."

"If it's so harmless, why don't _you _drink it?" Hermione said, certain that she'd caught him. To her surprise, he simply gave her a weary look and raised the cup to his mouth, swallowing a fair portion before offering it to her.

"There," he said, "you drink the rest."

Hermione considered him for a few moments, trying to gauge whether the tea was having any visible effect on the man. When he seemed only to relax a fraction, she reluctantly took the offered cup, more nervous about whatever alternative he might employ if she continued to refuse him. The tea smelled harmless enough— inviting, even— and after tasting it carefully, she decided that it was even better than the kind he offered her in the mornings after her night terrors. With a repressed sigh of defeat, she took a larger sip, averting her eyes from his when she saw an infuriating look of satisfaction cross his face.

After finishing the tea, he reached out to take the cup from her and place it back on the side table as she settled back against the pillow, feeling quite relaxed, though still not completely at ease. Severus looked down at her, evaluating her shifting body language and mindset, content that his brew had delivered the desired effect. He'd made it rather strong, and even he could feel a distinct change in his own demeanor from the small portion he'd imbibed. He crossed his right arm over her legs to lean into the cushion on the opposite side of her, noticing her eyes dart suspiciously with the movement.

"So," he drawled, "you must have questions. You can ask them now."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, staring him down for a moment before responding.

"No," she said quietly, "I don't have any questions for you." Severus looked surprised.

"I've already figured you out." she continued, "I know what you are."

Severus regarded her warily, unconvinced that she knew as much as she thought she did.

"Do you?" He drawled, even slower, "What am I, then?"

Hermione swallowed nervously, trying to summon the strength the speak her next words without faltering. She failed miserably, though, as the words came out in a forced whisper: "_You're a Satan worshipper."_

Severus' face was utterly blank for a moment before something odd flashed across his features, and Hermione's brows furrowed as she tried in vain to understand his reaction. his lip twitched several times as he seemed to struggle with his facade, and she was almost certain she'd called him out on his secret and that he was now struggling to control his rage at her discovery. She braced herself for the explosion of temper she feared he was about to unleash, flinching when she heard a suppressed breath escape him in a near snort. This was soon followed by strange throaty sounds that bubbled up from his chest, and the next thing she knew, he was trying to reign in a fit of laughter! When he saw the utterly confused look on her face, he laughed even deeper, the unexpected sound washing over her warmly as he reached up to rub the moisture from his eyes. He was smiling down at her with genuine amusement, though she failed to see any humor in the situation.

"What's so funny?" she demanded, the strength returning to her voice, "This is hardly a laughing matter!"

Severus allowed himself one more low chuckle before regaining control of himself, looking down at her with warm eyes. "I've been called many things in my time, but you're the first to accuse me of _Satanism_..."

Hermione studied him speculatively, uncertain how to interpret his reaction.

"You deny it?" she whispered, her voice a curious mix of uncertainty and conviction, "After admitting you 'charmed' the radio? ...after chanting those words over me last night?"

Severus' amused expression sobered at that.

"That's right, I heard you..." she continued, her conviction growing, "I _saw _you in that room, with those two other men..."

If Severus' face had turned serious before, now it was downright grave. Hermione noticed the change and jumped on it.

"I knew it! I _knew_ that wasn't just a dream! ...I was there... _you_ were there!"

Severus' hands moved to grip her shoulders suddenly and he stared deeply into her eyes, startling her with the intensity of his expression.

"What do you remember?" he asked in a low, urgent voice, "What _exactly_ do you remember?"

The deep black orbs of his eyes seemed to bore into her then, and though it frightened her, she couldn't avert her gaze as his seemed to penetrate her very soul.

"Stop it!" she pleaded, "Stop looking at me like that!"

Severus' expression faltered for a moment as he saw only her deep fear of himself reflected in her gaze, and he drew back, not wanting to reinforce that perception. He released her shoulders and slowly moved away from her, his eyes scanning her face as she marginally relaxed.

After allowing her breathing to slow, he crossed his right hand over her again and placed it beside her in a gesture meant to be protective, though it only made her stomach twist strangely.

A long silence stretched between as he considered his next move, though he couldn't imagine any option besides that which he was reluctant to now take. With a deep breath he prepared himself, hoping he wasn't about to make the situation any more difficult than it already was.

He looked into her eyes again, and she saw a resigned openness there that surprised her.

"I haven't been completely honest with you," he started carefully, "but with good reason."

Hermione held her breath, simultaneously nervous and excited to hear what he was about to finally disclose.

"There are... that is, _I am_... ...a wizard."

Hermione's face remained perfectly still as her eyes scanned his for any sign of humor. When he only looked back at her with a solemn earnestness, her lip began to twitch much in the same way his had when she'd called him a Satanist. He frowned when he realized what was coming, but was too late as she promptly erupted into a fit of hysterical snickering.

"A wizard?" she choked out between laughs, "You're a _wizard_?"

Severus tightened his lips and his posture stiffened in awkwardness, letting out a short breath of frustration. "Yes, a wizard. Not a _Satanist,_ not some demonic presence... but a _wizard_."

The haughtiness he meant to suppress was unmistakable, and she snickered louder. "Oh, I see..." (_laughs_) "my mistake, _Gandalf._" At that, she broke down into full-on laughter when he flashed her a harsh look.

"You wouldn't be laughing if you knew what kind of wizard I am..." he warned her in a deadly serious tone that only had her laughing harder.

"Is that right? ...What kind of wizard are you then, hmm?" she teased, her snickering dissolving into softer giggles.

Severus' eyes went dark in a way that might've scared her earlier, but now she was finding the man delightfully less intimidating.

"Suffice it to say..." he drawled in his most sonorous baritone, "...my power is such that you wouldn't want to face the receiving end of _my_ wand, without being adequately skilled in the _darkest_ of arts."

Hermione smirked at him as her giggles subsided into a low, unnerving laugh. "Oh, _honey_..." she said in a tone he hadn't heard from her before, "...I bet you say that to _all _the girls."

She was looking much too pleased with herself, smirking up at him mischievously with a daring look in her eyes. Before Severus knew what he was doing, he'd drawn his wand and was surreptitiously casting a spell beside her, his eyes still locked intensely with hers in an unspoken challenge.

"Are you comfortable?" he purred, raising an inquiring eyebrow as she pondered his question.

"...comfortable enough..." she answered, furrowing her brow, "...what are you suggesting?" she cocked her head at him slyly, surprised when he smirked back at her naughtily.

"Simply that you might prefer resting on something more... substantial."

A devious thought ran through Hermione's mind as she immediately imagined him carrying her into the bedroom and laying her down on her bed. Delusional, self-proclaimed 'wizard' or not, she couldn't help but flush at the idea of his hungry mouth assaulting hers as he pulled her clothes off.

Her train of thought was broken as his eyes suddenly moved down to the couch beneath her. When she saw his smirk stretch wider, her gaze instinctively followed his, and she glanced down to find that the couch had _completely vanished! _

Startled, she shifted desperately, clutching at empty space as she realized that she was suspended mid-air, impossibly hovering over bare and dusty floor boards. She looked up at him in panic to find him fully grinning at her in self-satisfaction. He lifted his wand again, and with a sudden flourish he droned "_Finite levioso!" _causing whatever magic was suspending her to fall away as she dropped flailing to the hard floor, crying out in shock as he quickly swung his other arm around her and pulled her into him, absorbing the brunt of the fall and laughing throatily as she scrambled on top of him.

"W-what just happened?" she stammered as she looked around her, dazed as he held her close while his booming laughter quaked against her chest.

"You made the couch disappear! How did you...?" Hermione looked at him in amazement, hardly able to believe what she'd just seen.

"...You really are a _wizard_?" she whispered in disbelief, looking down at him as if seeing him for the first time.

Severus' laughs subsided and he looked back at her with a pleased smile, reaching up to move some hair out of her eyes.

"Naturally."


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

_**A/N: **Aaahh! I finally graduated, hence the delay. It's been hectic. Hopefully now I can get this story back on track!_

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All of the anxious fear that had been writ across her features had subsided as she sat there staring at the smirking man lying underneath her, seeing him with new eyes. She'd just witnessed him perform magic— real, _actual magic—_ and he was smirking up at her with the most handsomely smug expression she'd ever seen. His arms were still holding her as protectively as when he'd caught her, and a slight warmth spread over her as she realized how remarkably _safe_ she felt in those arms. Just as soon as the thought had a moment to register, she felt his hands tense at their positions on her hip and back, causing a tiny thrill to flutter in her stomach; she watched his smirk falter as the warmth in his eyes was replaced by a gently assessing gaze. For just a moment she thought she recognized trepidation ghost across his features, but whatever she saw reflected there now was entirely inscrutable.

Severus hadn't missed the slight increase in her body temperature as she sat there staring at him with open wonder; nor had he missed the sharp dilation of her pupils as he'd suddenly become quite aware of the position of his arms around her body. Though a distant part of him tried to warn himself about the way she was looking at him, for the moment he was too thoroughly captivated with the novelty of being at the receiving end of such an ardent gaze. No woman... girl... had ever looked at him quite like that before.

He watched at she raised a tentative hand to his face, staying perfectly still as her fingers neared the skin of his cheek. Should he allow her to touch him? He would— just one touch. Surely one gentle touch couldn't hurt... as her fingers finally made contact, he winced in surprise, hissing in a small breath - it _did _hurt! He saw her wince apologetically in response, pulling back her hand and examining the little bit of blood on her fingertip. The scratch marks; of course. He'd forgotten to heal them.

Raising his right arm from its position around her back, he muttered a low incantation as he waved his wand across the marred flesh, watching her expression the whole time. She gasped as she watched the skin heal over, leaving only trails of drying blood behind. Impressed, she smiled at him with a look of understanding in her eyes, as if he'd just confided some great personal secret to her. She lifted her thumb to her mouth and wet it with her tongue, then moved to wipe at his face as he reeled back in discomfort. She let out one of her musical little laughs and caught his face with her other hand, holding him in place while she smeared at the blood marks. She quirked her lips when she saw the rosy hue left over from her ministrations, and he frowned in response. Now she was teasing him. He grabbed her wrist and held it away from his face as he pulled himself up, lifting her along with him. He pushed her back until they were clear of the space, then swished his wand as he conjured the couch back into place. She reached out and touched it, confirming that it was was really back.

"Where did it go?" She asked, her face beaming with curiosity.

"Into a static dimension," he casually replied, "a temporary holding place."

She considered this for a moment before asking another question. "Would it have stayed there until you called it back?"

He attempted to pull an irritated expression, but she saw the glimmer of amusement that proceeded it.

"If I hadn't conjured it within a certain amount of time, the hold on it would have faded and it would have reappeared. Unless I had vanished it entirely."

"Oh! Do that! I want to see you vanish it!" She exclaimed with excitement.

"Why would I want to do that?" He huffed, "I _sleep_ on that couch, you silly fool."

She laughed, and the look on her face told him what was coming before she said it.

"You could always share the bed with me," she smirked.

Despite his disparaging glance, she continued smirking at him like an idiot.

"Not ten minutes ago you sat there accusing me of Satanism, convinced I was planning to murder you in some diabolical scheme— and now, after a few waves of my wand, you're ready to offer your bed to me?"

Once again his threatening tone failed to intimidate her, and he watched with dismay as her smirk only deepened into a sultry look that was entirely too genuine this time. She wasn't toying with him anymore; he recognized true attraction for him, and it was just as unnerving as it was thrilling.

"Well... maybe if you waved that wand of yours around sooner, I wouldn't have jumped to such ungenerous conclusions..."

"And just how can you be sure that I'm not a scheming Satanist _with a wand_? I can assure you, there are plenty of dangerous wizards out there who can perform the simple parlor tricks I've just demonstrated."

"There are?" She gasped, "How many?"

Severus raised an astonished eyebrow, surprised again by her open excitement.

"How many wizards are there? Do you know? Are you all men, or are there female wizards? There must be female wizards too, right? Or can you mate with non-wizards? Well, I'm sure you _can_, I mean, I know you wanted to mate with me... but maybe you can't...? Is that why you pushed me away? Does wizard sex involve weird, kinky magic.."

"_Miss Granger!"_

"Who?"

Severus was looking at her in agitated shock, unable to formulate a response. That he'd slipped and used her surname to address her was a reflexive reaction to her onslaught of questioning; he had to remind himself that he had no influence over her as a teacher now, and that he was practically a stranger to her, as far as she was concerned.

"You overwhelm me. Please try and limit your questions to one at a time, and please don't make them so inane."

Hermione furrowed her brow, frustrated to have to restate what she believed were perfectly reasonable, straightforward questions.

"How many of you are there?"

He quirked that damnable eyebrow again. "Fortunately," he started, "or, perhaps unfortunately," he said quieter, "there is only one Severus Snape."

She cocked her head at that, the name bouncing around in her mind as if it were trying to find purchase somewhere, wanting to belong someplace that didn't exist.

"Severus Snape..." she repeated quietly, making his face go quite still as she spoke it. His eyes bored into hers, and she met them curiously.

"That's your name then, is it?"

He nodded once, slowly.

She gave him a small smile. "Funny I never knew until now..." she said. She took a step toward him, causing him to reel back slightly. "Nice to finally meet you, Severus Snape," she smirked, holding out her hand, "I'm Nina. No last name, I'm afraid. Just Nina."

Severus eyed her hand awkwardly, but shook it out of compulsive politeness.

"How can you not have a last name?" He asked, with that strange, apologetically prying look on his face again.

"I know," she said as she dropped her eyes to the floor, "it's weird, but a lot of us girls don't have real names anymore. They just kind of get lost along the way sometimes."

"Because you've actually forgotten, or because you don't want to remember?"

Her eyes snapped back to his, flashing between vulnerability and defensiveness.

"Hey... I thought I was the one with all the questions..."

"Quid pro quo?" He offered quietly. Her lips twisted and she glanced back at the floor.

"I guess I can't remember anymore. Maybe I don't want to, either. But 'Nina' is the only name I've got."

Severus was quiet for long moments before releasing a sigh, prompting her to look up at him again. She couldn't identify the look he now wore on his strange, unaccountably handsome face.

"Our numbers are small in comparison to the wider population, but we still have thriving communities in nearly every part of the world. There are roughly 3,000 witches and wizards in the U.K.— yes, there are witches." He said as he looked at her rather intensely, "They are our female counterparts, though not all witches or wizards marry magical folk. Some take muggle spouses."

"Muggle? I think I've heard you use that word before..."

"Yes," he answered, "Muggles are non-magical humans."

"Like me? I'm a 'muggle,' then? Hardly a complimentary term, is it..."

She narrowed her eyes slightly at the odd look he gave her.

"Alright then, I'm a 'muggle.' Brilliant. But you can still mate with me, right?"

Severus scowled at her, making her grin back at him.

"You can, can't you? But you still don't want to... you said 'there are rules,' before— remember? Did you mean rules against mating with muggles? Is it considered beneath you, somehow? You say that _some _take muggle spouses... are they frowned upon in magic society? Are there 'magic supremacists' or something? Is that what you are?"

She paused when she noticed that his sardonic eyebrow had regained its favored position high on his brow.

"Oh, I'm doing it again, aren't I."

He took a deep breath before deigning to answer her.

"There are, what you'd call _Blood _Supremacists, who don't believe in diluting the gene pool with non-magical blood... I, however, am not one of them."

She smiled at him so genuinely that he almost smiled back.

"That's nice, Severus. I'm glad."

His blood tingled as he heard her call him by name.

"That's not to say that _I_ have any interest in mating with _you_, ...muggle or not."

Her smile faltered, and her face grew slightly petulant before she quietly responded:

"We'll see about that."


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

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"Ok, ok... let me get this straight: so you're a Death Dealer, too? But one that works for that Bumblebore guy?"

Severus' face dropped into his hands again as he suppressed another moan, prompting Hermione to wonder what part she'd gotten wrong this time.

"What? What did I say? Are you a Death Dealer or aren't you?"

"No," Severus muttered into his palms, "I'm a bloody Death _Eater._"

"Oh, right. Death _Eater._ Got it. It still sounds pretty stupid though; I think I like 'Death Dealer' better." When he only pulled at his hair in response, she continued, "But you work for Bumblebore, so you're a good Death Eater, then, right?"

"_Dumbledore_."

"Pardon? I can't hear you with your face in your hands."

"I work for _Dumbledore."_

"Right. ...Great name, that..."

"And there's no such thing as a _good _Death Eater."

She paused at that.

"But _you're_ good, aren't you?" The look he gave her showed that he was less than certain.

"You are... you must be, if you're working against this Dark Lord..."

"If you think that _simply challenging_ the Dark Lord makes one good— and I assure you, it doesn't— then I meet that qualification."

Hermione's gut twisted at the sorrow writ across his face, wondering what he'd done that had made him so self-deprecating. Obviously there were some unspoken issues operating here.

"Alright. So you're _sort of_ good, then. That's good enough for me."

Severus went quiet for a moment, studying her carefully before responding.

"You're too quick with your trust. I would've thought that with your history, you'd be a bit more cautious..."

It was Hermione's turn to go quiet as she studied the man before her.

"Yes... I suppose you would think that. But I still trust you." When Severus cast another disparaging glance she added, "Maybe if only because you don't think you deserve it."

Severus sighed, apparently unwilling to argue the matter any further. He _needed_ her to trust him, after all. If she wanted to do so hastily, it wouldn't do to complain.

"But there's something I still don't understand... well, there's a lot I still don't understand, actually... but one thing that's bothering me."

Severus looked up apprehensively, hoping she wouldn't ask him to explain something as mundane as why he prefers black clothing again.

"If you've been living this double life, working for the Dark Lord guy— who's clearly insane— and the Bumble... I mean, Dumbledore?" Severus nodded, "right; you're also working for the Dumbledore guy, who makes you take crazy risks for his cause... and you're caught in the middle of this escalating war of sorts, which sounds really intense... then what the hell have you been doing out here with me? Are you on holiday or something?"

"_This is no holiday_," He answered stiffly.

"So what, then? Are you working for one of them right now?"

Severus looked at her in that awfully uncomfortable way again, and she found herself squirming while awaiting his response.

"I am on a personal mission," he started slowly, carefully selecting each word, "but one which will ultimately be of service to The Order."

She considered this a moment before replying. "The Order? Those are the good guys?"

He nodded, staring hard at her.

"...And just how are you helping them on this personal mission? How does hanging out _with a whore_ in the middle of nowhere help bring down that Dark Lord?"

Severus pulled in a sharp breath, his eyes flashing with hurt.

"_Don't call yourself that," _he practically whispered. She scrutinized him carefully, wondering if he was more concerned about protecting_ her,_ or was just trying to make himself feel better about the company he'd been keeping.

"But _I am_, you know, Severus. I'm not some innocent waif you saved from a dark fate that night. If that was your intention, you're too late."

Severus looked like he'd just swallowed a tack.

"I'm sorry," she spoke in a cold, clinical voice, "but I'm not who you must think I am. You're probably wasting your time with me, I just thought you should know."

After a tense pause— throughout which he had hung his head miserably in silence— Severus finally spoke softly, without raising his eyes to meet hers.

"You're not a whore. You're someone quite spectacular, really. ...You've only forgotten."

She looked at him sadly, reaching out and gently pushing some of his hair out of his face.

"That's sweet of you, Severus," she said quietly. "I still think you've got the wrong idea about me, though."

Severus finally looked up at her, and the look in his eyes astonished her. Without breaking his fierce gaze, he reached into his sleeve and pulled out the length of his long, black wand from where he'd stowed it. Still caught up in his expression, she almost didn't notice that he'd placed the piece of wood in her hand, until his fingers closed around hers, forcing her to grasp onto it. She looked down, marveling at the sight of his hand wrapped around hers, practically ignoring what she now held. Still admiring their joined hands, she saw him slide off his seat in her peripheral vision as he came to kneel in front of her, just to the side of where the wand was pointed. She glanced up and and met his eyes again, mesmerized by the hopeful, impassioned look contained in them.

"Only true wizards and witches can wield a wand," he spoke in solemn tones, imploring her to understand. "To muggles, they are completely useless. No more than a piece of wood. But to a witch or wizard, they are an essential tool; a means of grounding and directing one's very life force; an extension of oneself."

Severus released her hand with great significance, willing her to understand the gravity of what he'd just imparted. She looked down at the wand with a small frown, uncomfortable with this unexpected ceremony. _Why was he acting like it mattered whether or not she held his wand? What did he expect from her?_

"Look at me," he commanded in a solemn voice, his dark eyes now alight with a conspiratorial fire.

_"Wield it." _

Hermione furrowed her brow at him uncertainly, overcome with a sudden bout of self-consciousness.

"_Wield it,_" he repeated, almost whispering to her in a low, urgent tone, "_you have the power._"

Hermione swallowed thickly, glancing down at the wand she realized she was gripping quite tightly, before looking up at him again with a mix of confusion and curiosity. He nodded solemnly, his eyes still boring intently into hers.

"I— I don't know how," she offered meekly, wanting so much to appease him then, but so afraid of disappointing him.

"Just try," he prompted, "you have the power. Just focus. Let it move through you. Use the wand to direct it outward."

Hermione took a deep breath, concentrating on his encouraging words and trying to summon an unfamiliar force. She stared at a fixed point in the distance, steadying herself as she prepared to work the wand.

"_That's it," _Severus whispered, "let it come to you; it will come naturally."

With a look of determination and another deep intake of air, Hermione raised the wand, took aim, and let go.

When nothing happened, she waved it dramatically, swishing it around and flicking it with great force and purpose. Nothing. She suddenly felt rather silly, and her lips quirked into an embarrassed grin as she cast her eyes away from him, releasing an exasperated sigh.

Severus was looking quite astonished, and more than a little worried. He was staring at the wand she was now holding limply, looking at it as if it held answers he was incapable of gleaning.

"I'm sorry," she muttered, slumping her shoulders as she twirled the wand nervously in her fingers. "I'm not sure what you were expecting, but I'm sorry to disappoint you anyways."

It was Severus' turn to swallow thickly, looking up at her cautiously with another of his odd, inscrutable expressions.

"...I guess you know now that I really am just a whore," she offered quietly, with a gentle look of apology.

"No," he answered in a low voice, "you're wrong about that. And I'll prove it to you."

She smiled sadly at him, reaching out and stroking his face.

"You really are sweet," she whispered, her chest constricting at the sight of the complex emotions he was conveying with his expressive eyes.

"Her— ...listen to me," he said, taking her hand from his face and holding it tightly. "You are _not_ what you think you are. You're not _who _you think you are. Your memories are corrupted, you _know _this."

When her eyes widened and she started pulling her hand away, he gripped it harder and spoke with even greater intensity.

"You know this, you do! You can't remember your parents, where you came from... you can't even remember your own name! You don't know who you really are, but _I do! _I can help you remember! No, don't fight me—"

Hermione was reeling back from him in confusion, both of his hands now gripping hers as he struggled to keep her still.

"You asked me what I was doing out here with you, now that you know that I'm a wizard and who I'm working with and what I'm fighting against— listen to me, Hermione— I'm here _for you_, _just you_— to help you remember, to bring you back!"

"I'm not Hermione, I'm Nina!" she whined, thoroughly shaken now by what he was saying to her. Part of her wanted to listen to him, to heed the urgency in his words and the sincerity with which he delivered them— but a stronger part wanted to resist: _had _to resist. She didn't know why, but something told her that it would be dangerous to listen to him.

"There _is no Nina!" _he insisted, his eyes pleading for understanding, "There never was! There was only you, Hermione, confusing yourself for someone you weren't! Your memories were taken from you, but I can bring them back!"

She was close to sobbing now, confused tears streaming down her face as she continued pulling vainly at his death grip on her hand, trying to contain the storm of wild thoughts that were pushing against her consciousness like a hurricane outside a feebly-latched door.

"No, please," she begged, sounding quite pitiful, "let me go— you're hurting me..."

Severus loosened his grip on her hand, allowing her to pull away, but grabbed her shoulders before she could flee her chair.

"I want to show you something— please, let me enter your mind. I can show you the truth..."

"No," she sobbed, "no, please, you mustn't!"

"Don't resist, I'm trying to help you..."

She watched him raise his wand, her eyes widening fearfully as he prepared to invade her mind.

"No!" she cried, but to no avail: he was fully determined.

"_Legilimens!"_

Suddenly she was being pulled forcefully into his penetrating gaze, disoriented by the shift of reality as the room around her fell away and she found herself in a kind of fog of jumbled thoughts, most of which were rapidly being suppressed and hidden away before she had a chance to focus on them. Before she realized what was happening, the space around her started shifting until she suddenly found herself standing at the front of a large hall before a crowd of young people in school uniforms, underneath bright chandeliers and floating candles, beyond which stretched an impressive canopy of twinkling stars. The sight took her breath away, never having seen anything like it before. And yet...

"Hermione Granger!" a woman's voice called out, and she watched as a young girl nervously approached the table before her, climbing onto the seat and turning her back to her as a hat was placed on her head.

"_Griffindor!" _The hat bellowed, and cheers erupted from a far table as the girl happily jumped down to join a welcoming group of students. She focused closely on the girl's face, her heart thumping as she recognized a striking resemblance to herself. This girl was so familiar, but so foreign at the same time; she was so happy, so young and so...

Hermione bent over in sudden fear, clutching at her stomach and collapsing to her knees as an acute anxiety overwhelmed her. She felt like she was being torn apart, disembodied and slowly falling into a void from which there would be no return. No one around her noticed her distress, and she looked up to see Severus sitting haughtily at a chair beside her, completely oblivious to her as he glared disdainfully at the crown below.

"Severus," she croaked, "help me, please..."

She closed her eyes as the scene around her started to disintegrate, gasping for breath as she felt like all the air was being choked out of her as her body was compressed by an enormous vacuum. Lights burst behind her eyes and everything started to go very dark, while a pressure in her ears drowned out all sound but that of a small, distant voice which was calling to her, imploring her to open her eyes. His voice was alluring, but the blackness was entirely more tenacious and so she submitted to its pull, letting go of all anxiety as she fell headlong into an all-consuming darkness.

.

.

.

_**A/N: ** There's some fun stuff up ahead! I intend to turn out longer chapters after this (these were necessarily short, because I wanted to separate these events). Your reviews are much appreciated, and are very helpful at motivating me to write faster! _


	16. Chapter 16

_**A/N:** __Prepare yourself! This is __a long one (over 12,000 words)! This should make up for the last couple of shorter ones, eh?_ ;)_  
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Chapter 16

(How It Happened—Part II)

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_Severus' eyes widened and he held his breath as he took in the battered sight of his young pupil bent and shivering on her knees before him, her eye blackening and her lips bloodied. As she slowly raised her head to survey her surroundings, her eyes immediately fell on his, as if he had drawn them to him. A look of astonishment overcame her and her mouth fell slack... she then managed to form one word, which was whispered in bewilderment:_

"_Professor?..."_

A low, blood-curdling laugh trickled over from the far side of the room, and Hermione had to turn her head to see the approaching figure with her good eye. When she did focus on him, she immediately wished she hadn't: there stood Voldemort himself, looking even more sinister and vile than she'd ever imagined him. This was not a man, but something wholly unnatural; his very presence seemed to taint the air with an unholy pall, as if the atmosphere itself were recoiling in offense from the walking abomination. Hermione struggled to breathe.

"Ohhh, this is a _delightful_ surprise..." Voldemort crooned, practically slithering toward Hermione's terrified form. "Your _professor_ can't help you now, little one!" Voldemort chuckled, smiling horrifically at Snape, who was scowling down at Hermione with a mix of surprise and perplexity. Hermione looked up at him desperately, willing him to intervene on her behalf. She couldn't understand what his eyes meant to convey to her, but she thought she recognized a warning there.

"Yesss, yes... this one can be _very _useful..." Voldemort was murmuring, slithering around the room now as he schemed up vicious scenarios on how best to put the mudblood prisoner to use.

"I'd hoped you'd think so, my Lord," Lucius started, only for Voldemort to wave a dismissive hand to silence him.

"Her death would be a hard blow to the boy..." Voldemort whispered, "I'd have to make it _count_. No simple execution would do... the details of her demise must be particularly devastating..."

Hermione felt like she was going to be sick. She thought she'd endured as much pain as a body could take earlier that evening with Lucius: now it occurred to her that it could get much worse, and that if anyone could find a way to ensure her complete and total agony, that someone was the foul creature in front of her. For all her nausea, she didn't have the strength at that moment to vomit.

"If I may, my Lord," Severus spoke, his smooth, familiar voice providing a fleeting balm to her addled senses.

"You have an idea, Severusss?" Voldemort answered, looking expectantly at him.

"Indeed, my Lord. If you'll allow it, I wish to suggest an _alternate_ approach— one which, I'm certain, would be even more devastating to the boy, ensuring that his misery lasts far beyond a typical mourning period, and would render him vulnerable for a considerable length of time..."

"I'm listening, Severuss..."

Snape's words registered distantly with Hermione, but she was becoming too numb to be affected by them now. Was Snape a traitor? Did he really want to destroy Harry, or was this all an elaborate act? Did he have a plan? Would he save her? Could he, even if he wanted to? All of these questions tried weakly to distract her from the lull of detached indifference that wanted to overtake her.

"Losing the girl would, indeed, be a hard blow to the boy, but would not necessarily have the debilitating effect you desire. The boy is temperamental, my Lord: _reactionary..._ he may well be able to channel his rage over her loss into a more committed attack against us, using that pain as a catalyst for ordered retaliation. I believe the loss may very well _strengthen _him, my Lord: such is his character, as I've come to understand it."

Voldemort looked entirely incensed at this statement, flashing a seething glare between both Severus and Lucius before landing disdainfully on the defeated girl between them.

"This is most disconcerting, Severus. Tell me your solution."

"I believe there is a way to avoid having Potter turn her loss into a righteous crusade to avenge her death; a way to make her loss much more... _distracting_. If we can keep her alive, but unobtainable, and in a constant state of misery, then I believe Potter may well be driven to near madness over his own inability to rescue her."

Hermione tried not to let his words penetrate the psychological barrier she'd begun forming around herself, though she couldn't help but shudder at the implications.

"You want to keep her prisoner?" Lucius spat accusingly, "Give them a chance to rescue her? My Lord, this is unwise—"

"_Silence, Lucius,_" Voldemort hissed, turning his pent up rage on his despicable servant with a vicious glare, "I will hear the rest of Severus' plan."

"Indeed, I do not advise her imprisonment, my Lord. At least, not in the capacity Lucius proscribes. There is, rather, a more strategic alternative which would impede all attempts to rescue her, while keeping her in harrowing conditions that will have Potter and his friends gnashing their teeth over their own impotence."

Severus had the room's full attention now, and glanced down at Hermione again to find her completely tense— clearly not ignoring him, as she otherwise seemed to be.

"I am referring, of course, to the underground, muggle-born slave trade, my Lord."

Lucius scoffed at this. "That organization no longer exists."

"You know perfectly well that it does, Lucius," Severus countered, earning a particularly vengeful glare from the blonde Death Eater. "I have ample evidence confirming that associates of yours continue to operate a local branch of the organization with the aid of your own private funding."

Lucius blanched at the accusation, raising Voldemort's curiosity.

"Is this true, Luciusss?"

"My Lord, I will not deny it. But please believe that I had no intention of deceiving—"

Lucius' words were cut off abruptly as a dark curse hit him after a barely perceptible flick of Voldemort's wand.

"You've been keeping secrets, Lucius. You knew that I wouldn't have been pleased to hear that the slave trade was operating without my jurisdiction."

"This is true, my Lord," Lucius panted, "but I did have good reason to keep this information to myself for the time being!"

"_What reasons, Lucius?" _Voldemort hissed, pointing his wand threateningly at his cowering servant.

"The organization is still poorly managed, my Lord! After the last interference from the Ministry, my contacts have been forced to resort to the lowest means of operation— I was certain you wouldn't approve of their tactics. They recognize no authority, but are completely driven by greed and internal politics. The cause means nothing to them; they would just as easily trade in purebloods as they would mudbloods, if there were more profit in it. By privately funding them, I was attempting to reform their organization into one you could be proud of, my Lord: I wanted to establish rules of conduct that would be in line with your own agenda, abolishing practices that you would undoubtedly find abhorrent..."

"And you did not think to include me in these reforms, Lucius? Did you not consider that my influence might be more effective than your private funding?"

"Of course, my Lord— but, as I said, these men are insufferable! I did not wish to distract you with their incompetence, when I believed I might coordinate them on my own! What's more, the local branch is quite tentative as it is; any powerful interference— even your own, I fear— could easily disrupt ties with the larger organization, as these people will turn on each other quickly at the first sign of external conflict."

Voldemort went quiet, pondering the situation. He was staring fiercely into Lucius' eyes, ascertaining the legitimacy of his statement. When he was at last placated, he lowered his wand, allowing Lucius to breathe again as he turned toward Severus.

"Very well, Severus, you may continue."

Severus looked squarely at Lucius for a moment before continuing.

"As underhanded as they may have been, Lucius' dealings with these people may offer us a certain advantage, my Lord: as I understand it, once a mudblood is sold to the slave traders, they are never recovered. All knowledge of their magical upbringing is obliviated. They are essentially made muggle, and of the lowest class. They are passed between international locations in a highly randomized order, until even their traders lose any knowledge of their origin. The whole operation is entirely underground, discreetly servicing anonymous patrons who wish to exploit muggle-borns. Their discretion is oath-bound. Their movements are untraceable."

"This is an interesting idea, Severus... but if this is to be the girl's fate, how will Potter be affected? How can you ensure her distress is known to him?"

Severus looked down at Hermione again, taking in the look of complete abjection that clouded her expression.

"We can have one of our planted spies report to Dumbledore. Should we initiate this plan, we could ensure that such a spy is on hand during the exchange, to witness the girl's transfer. They will relay the news, but by the time they do, it will be too late; we'll ensure that she is lost quickly, before any Order members have a chance to interfere. Then, I have no doubt that they will attempt to find her. Their search will expose them to the harsh conditions that the girl will suffer, increasing their concern for her welfare, but they will not find her. We'll see to it that she is well and truly lost— the organization is fully capable of ensuring this. Potter will be furious, and quite discouraged. I'm certain he will devote tireless effort into reclaiming her, wasting time and resources in the process. The Order will be weakened. Potter will weaken. I think you'll find that it's a much more efficient plan than simply killing her."

Voldemort was grinning fiendishly, clearly pleased with Snape's plan. He was staring at Hermione with undisguised glee, as if he were a child who had just received a much sought-after present.

"With Lucius' help, we can arrange to have her moved throughout the most discreet, untraceable channels. She'll be lost before The Order has a chance to go after her."

"Yesss... very good, Severusss... very good. You've done well tonight. You have convinced me that your council is, indeed, invaluable."

Lucius glared at Severus, his suspicions about the usurper having just been confirmed.

"We must act quickly," Voldemort warned, "the sooner she is taken care of, the less chance The Order has of interfering."

"Absolutely, my Lord. I would also advise that this plan be kept secret until it has been fulfilled."

"Yes, of course; no one outside of you and Lucius will know of it, until it's time to place the spy. Lucius, can I trust you to make the necessary arrangements with your contacts?"

"Of course, my Lord." Though he flinched at Voldemort's disparaging tone, Lucius knew that he'd just been given his one and only opportunity to atone for his failure at securing the prophecy. He wasn't about to fail twice.

"Severus, you will assist him. You are in charge of this operation, but I don't want your position compromised; your own discretion is paramount. Make sure your involvement is minimal, but don't allow for any mistakes."

"I understand, my Lord. Shall I obliviate the girl now?"

Voldemort cast his eyes toward the unmoving girl hunched on the floor, considering her with a supercilious regard.

"No, I think not. I do not doubt your abilities, Severus, but I'd prefer that she not retain any knowledge of these events, and so I think it best that she be obliviated immediately prior to her transfer. Your... _associates_ are fully capable of properly obliviating her, are they not, Lucius?"

"Indeed, my Lord."

"Then it's settled. For now, return her to her cell. We'll move her as soon as the arrangements have been made."

With that, both Death Eaters bowed and took their leave as their master waved them off, sneering at the girl as she was dragged back into the corridor. As soon as the door was shut behind them, Severus lifted the girl into his arms and took off toward the dungeon, making Lucius follow behind him bitterly.

"You've certainly secured your place, haven't you?" Lucius muttered. Severus narrowed his eyes, but continued staring straight ahead.

"Don't waste your ire on me, Lucius. Naturally the Dark Lord would turn to me after the _incident_ at the Department of Mysteries. I had no control in the matter."

Lucius scoffed, but was interrupted before he could object.

"Furthermore, I just _saved your hide_ by introducing a chance for your redemption; don't pretend you're not grateful for this opportunity."

"...I will concede to that, but I don't appreciate having my personal affairs bandied about! How did you know about my involvement with the traffickers?"

It was Severus' turn to scoff. "As if you made it that difficult to trace."

"You had _no right!" _

Severus stopped and faced him then with a cold look of challenge.

"No, Lucius, _you _had no right keeping such secrets. It's no wonder you've been slacking in your duties when you've invested so much energy elsewhere! The _slave trade,_ Lucius? What were you thinking? You know how fiercely they're pursued by the Ministry! You risked far too much associating with those people! And for what? To humiliate a few more mudbloods?"

"A few _dozen_, actually; their abductions have increased, with my help..."

"It's petty, Lucius. Petty and irresponsible."

"Ha! Forgive me if I'm reluctant to accept any censure from you, Severus. Admit it: you _sympathize _with them."

Severus was moving down the corridor again, staring straight ahead.

"Believe what you will of me, Lucius. Your actions were reprehensible, and you know it. Now go meet with your contacts; I have to clean up this mess you've made."

Lucius looked at the girl in Severus' arms with incomprehension.

"You're going to heal her? What on Earth for?"

"We want to _trade_ her, don't we? I hardly think they'll be eager to take her if I leave her in this state. Go, and be swift— I'll meet you upstairs in two hours."

With one final scowl, Lucius stormed off down a side corridor. As soon as he left, Severus felt Hermione relax just a fraction in his arms. He stood there for several moments considering something, then abruptly turned to make his way down the same corridor that Lucius had taken, though at a more leisurely pace.

After a few more turns and an ascent up a flight of stairs, Hermione realized that he had taken her into a room that was definitely not the cold cell she was familiar with. She felt the warmth of a cozy fire, followed by the sensation of being laid down on plush bedding. She cracked her good eye open and saw only a wall beside her and a lush canopy above her, and wondered where he'd brought her. She heard the sound of a chair being dragged beside her, and the clinking of potion vials being conjured.

Snape sat down in the chair and unstoppered the first vial, holding it to her lips. She didn't hesitate to drink it down, despite the bitterness. He offered her a couple more before holding a glass of water to her lips, supporting her head with his other hand as she took several gulps, grateful to rinse out the harsh taste. He hadn't finished, though, and was soon measuring out a spoonful of another potion, which she accepted without complaint. As he leaned over her, her good eye met his for a moment, igniting something unspoken as they both seemed to arrive at a mutual awareness of the unusual circumstances they'd found themselves in. His face maintained a stony facade of concentration, but there was no mistaking the concern she'd seen when his eyes met hers.

She could feel strange tingling sensations all over her body as the potions worked their magic, gradually becoming aware that her numerous pains were diminishing and her vitality was being restored. She smelled something particularly acrid, then flinched as a strong-smelling compress was applied gently over her left eye. She felt his hand take hers carefully, lifting it to the compress and holding it there so that he could release it and tend to her other wounds.

He never spoke to her, which would've ordinarily made her uncomfortable, but for the moment she was thankful for the silence. He worked quickly and diligently, moving from one task to another without pause. She passively allowed him to tend to her, controlling her breathing when he lifted her jumper over her head to apply salves and cast healing spells over her wounds. Her breath hitched when she felt his hands unfastening her jeans, but with a deep breath she allowed her anxiety to wane, raising her hips to help him as he gently tugged the garment off of her. After a quick inspection he treated the minor injuries he found, then pulled a blanket over her before coaxing her to roll to her side so that he could examine her back and shoulders. When he'd finished his examination, he offered her another vial to drink down and set the compress aside.

"I'll be back shortly, rest now." He said, drowsiness taking over her as she squinted to watch him disappear into the floo before succumbing to a deep sleep.

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"_Miss Granger! Miss Granger, wake up..."_

Hermione opened her eyes, the vision from the left still slightly fuzzy as she tried to focus on the concerned face of Professor Snape. He held a glass to her lips, and she almost choked as she drank down the sweet pumpkin juice, expecting water.

"Miss Granger, I'm sorry, but there's very little time. I require your immediate attention."

"What is it?" She croaked, sitting up as he helped her, propping up pillows behind her.

"For your own safety, I can't tell you everything right now— but I need you to trust me."

She looked back at him with astonishment, wondering if he really did have a plan to save her after all.

"In case you're obliviated, I need to secure a set of memories from you right now; memories that can be used to reestablish your sense of self. Listen carefully, because the type of memories I need from you are important: these must relate to your _identity as a witch, _and must have _powerful emotions_ attached to them. Do you understand?"

"I think so..."

"Quickly now: think of something, anything, that anchors you to your identity as a witch. Make sure it's powerful! I'm going to enter your mind, are you ready?"

"Wait! I don't know yet, I can't concentrate..."

"Miss Granger, there's no time! _Think!"_

Her eyes widened as she felt the force of his mind pressing against her own, only fighting it for a moment before allowing him to stream into her unfiltered thoughts. She tried to summon the memories he'd requested, but none of them had the emotional force he required, and he dismissed them one after the other as she struggled to come up with others. Suddenly she felt his mind retreating, and she gasped as he released his hold on her and found him glowering down at her in frustration.

"I said _powerful _emotions, Granger! Your disgust over a Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Bean is hardly the kind of emotion that will trigger a memory relapse!"

"I'm sorry, sir! I'm trying! You went in too fast! I don't know what you want from me!"

"Just _think, _damn it! I'm trying to help you! You must hurry! _Focus!"_

With that, he stormed her mind again, this time pushing his way in forcefully as he attempted to glean the first train of thought that came to her. Before she could suppress it, he found it: a strong, shadowy memory that she was already trying to ignore, but which he pursued aggressively. Before she could resist, he'd taken hold of it and was entering it.

His own words echoed alongside it as this memory resurfaced: "_Just think, damn it!... Focus!..." _The scene was unfolding now, and he suddenly realized what his words had triggered as his surroundings became all too familiar. He was standing in the middle of his potions classroom, across from himself. Granger was seated at the desk beside him, looking very young and quite harried as he criticized her brewing. He vaguely recognized the scenario, but this time he could feel her emotions as she sat there taking his insults. Though he would've expected the anger and frustration that he felt on the surface, the most powerful emotions lay just beneath, and he cringed as he uncovered the overwhelming feelings of self-doubt, paralyzing insecurity and complete and utter failure. _It was only a first year potions assignment_, he scoffed, amazed at how sensitive she'd have to be to feel this way.

Suddenly the scene shifted, and he found himself outside his own office. Granger— a couple years older now— was standing nervously several paces away from the door, debating whether or not to approach. She was holding onto a recent essay that he'd returned to her, upset that he'd graded her unfairly. She wanted to confront him and argue her case, but was terrified of how he might respond. There was something else bothering her, but he had a hard time understanding what it meant: it seemed that she was more afraid of irritating him further than she was of him dismissing her appeal, worried that he'd think even less of her for trying to argue with him. At the same time, she wondered if he'd be impressed by her tenacity, and whether the argument that she'd rehearsed so thoroughly before heading down to his office would possibly sway his opinion of her. It was, she believed, quite a good argument, and she hoped he'd recognize all of the thought that went into it. With a deep breath, she approached his door and knocked.

Snape held his breath, knowing what was coming. He heard his own voice answer, "_Come."_ Granger straightened her posture, and entered. Snape followed her, though he already knew what would happen as soon as she stepped inside.

"Miss Granger." The memory of him began, "Let me guess. You've come to protest about your essay score."

"Well, sir, I—"

"Let me stop you right there, before you embarrass yourself any further. I do not tolerate grade grubbing. Your work was scored according to the same standards to which I hold all of my pupils. The grade is fair, and it will not be changed. Before you try haranguing me on the virtues of your individual approach— which I've no doubt you intend to do— consider this: third year brewing techniques are _not_ conducted according to subjective standards. There is no room for innovation or experimentation at such a level. Rather, you are expected to adhere to a strict set of rules that are prescribed _for a reason_: not to limit or oppress your creative endeavors, Merlin forbid, but to instill _practical knowledge_ of time-tested, reliable procedures that _need to be learned_ before you can advance to more exploratory methods of investigation. Without this foreknowledge, any subsequent efforts are meaningless. Do you understand? Your essay was a waste of your own time, as much as a waste of mine. You disregarded everything I attempted to teach in order to pursue an errant line of thought that had no basis in practical potionry, and was entirely inappropriate in a third year setting. You overestimate your own abilities, Miss Granger. If you wish to succeed in my classes, some humility would not go amiss."

Severus felt the humiliation rolling off of her in heated waves, as well as the sickening twist of her stomach as she struggled to maintain self control. Though her whole body wanted to break down at that moment, she stood her ground, murmuring "I understand, professor. I'm sorry to have wasted your time," before backing away and quietly closing the door behind her. He followed her as she took off toward the stairs, her breathing unsteady and a hysterical sob threatening to burst out of her that she struggled to suppress, terrified of being heard. She had only made it a little ways up the stairs before collapsing into an alcove, tears streaming down her cheeks as she buried her face in her hands, trying to hide the fierce blush that no one had seen (no one, of course, but Severus, whose presence was unknown to her). As his mordant tirade replayed itself through her mind, he felt her intense shame and her disappointment— not in him for having shamed her, but in herself for having believed she'd had a chance of improving his opinion of her. She felt ridiculous for having prepared such an assertive speech when she hadn't even been able to utter more than a few passive words to him. Surely he'd never respect her, now. How could he? She'd thoroughly humiliated herself, proving to be the arrogant, unsophisticated little swot he'd always thought she was. She wanted so badly for him to see in her the bright young witch that so many others saw, but at that moment, she wondered if he saw her for what she really was.

The scene shifted again, and Severus was alarmed to find himself in a girls' dormitory. Hermione was standing in front of a mirror, having just dressed for the Yule Ball. If Severus himself was the common link between this memory set, he shuddered to think what this particular memory meant. Hermione was scrutinizing her appearance, simultaneously excited and nervous about what kind of reactions she might receive. Her first thoughts were of Ronald Weasley, and it seemed that his opinion was of the most importance to her. Severus was inundated with girlish anxieties over what Ronald Weasley might say when he saw her; how she should approach him; whether or not she should seem eager to dance with him, in case he offers; _what if he pulled her aside and kissed her? Would this be the night everything changes between them? _Just beneath this concern was a slightly lesser, but definitely nervous, concern for the opinion of her date, Viktor Krum. _Would he be impressed? Or would he regret asking her, and realize she's not worthy of him? Would he ditch her for someone else? Would Ron gloat about it?_ There was a fleeting concern for Harry's reaction, as she wondered if he ever saw any beauty in her, admitting to herself that he was actually a bit handsome and that she was looking forward to seeing how he looked in dress clothes. Just as Severus started wondering whether this line of thought could get any worse for him, he noticed another concern rising up from the back of her consciousness, momentarily eclipsing all others. _Would Professor Snape be there? Surely he would; all teachers were expected to be in attendance. _This thought made her particularly nervous, and a chill ran through her. _Would he notice her? What would he think when he saw her on Viktor Krum's arm? Would he finally be impressed with her? _She imagined dancing with Viktor: him twirling her around the room, all eyes on her as he lifted her high into the air, her dress billowing all around. In this imaginary scenario, Snape stood off to the side, watching, noticing her for the first time, acknowledging her beauty, her talent, her intelligence... She smiled at the thought, taking a deep breath and summoning the courage to walk down the stairs to meet her friends.

Again, the scene shifted. This series of memories was spiraling down a dangerous path that was entirely unforeseen, but it was too late to turn back and seek out another, no matter how uncomfortable these were making him.

He recognized the new scene as taking place outside an upper level corridor of Order Headquarters, on the stairwell at 12 Grimmauld Place. A group consisting of several Weasleys, Potter and Granger were hunched around the railing, looking quite suspicious. They were focused on an extendable ear, which was relaying a muddled conversation taking place below. _The little twits! _Soon his own voice was heard, and the crowd was all agog at the unexpected realization that Snape was a member of The Order. Hermione, it seemed, was especially thrilled at this discovery, as he felt the strong emotions stirring in her as she considered what this meant to her. She felt justified in trusting him; excited that he'd been on their side all along; enamored by his complexity, considering that the feared Head of Slytherin— harsh, dark and brooding as he was— was secretly working for The Light. She felt guilty for all the times she doubted him, and even worse when she considered how horrible others had been towards the man, thinking the worst of him. And somewhere underneath all these feelings was another: a small, secret emotion that was yet unformed and raw, barely perceptible even to her, as she attempted to ignore it— but Severus felt it, and understood it before she did. Given everything he'd just witnessed, he was expecting it, even if it worried him. It was the dull, warm pulse of a crush slowly filtering into her consciousness from its hidden depths. She suddenly had a compelling inclination to be closer to him.

Severus reeled back as the scene evaporated, scattered thoughts now darting erratically through her mind. He'd seen enough. He pulled out as gently as he could, a depleted expression on his face as he focused again on the girl herself, thankful that he wasn't feeling any emotions other than his own. He didn't need legilimency, however, to know that the girl was thoroughly humiliated. There were tears in her eyes and her whole face was flushed. She averted her eyes as he conjured a glass vial, using his wand to draw out a silvery strand of memory from his temple. With precise, almost exaggerated movements, his nimble fingers stoppered the bottle and placed it in a small box, which he concealed in his robes. A heavy silence stretched between them as he considered what to say to her in the few moments he had left before he'd leave to meet Malfoy.

"Will those memories suffice then, Professor?" She still wasn't looking at him as she spoke, but he was grateful that she'd broken the ice for him.

"They'll have to do." His answer made her face contort strangely, and he was compelled to follow it up with something more encouraging.

"Don't fear, Miss Granger. I won't allow them to permanently delete your identity. Whatever happens, I'll see to it that you're safely restored, memories and all."

She looked up at him finally, and the terror on her face alarmed him.

"What's going to happen? Are they really going to sell me to the slave traders?"

Severus leaned forward and awkwardly placed his hand on her arm, trying to reassure her.

"No, Miss Granger. I won't allow that to happen. I have a plan, but it's not safe to give you too many details. Just be prepared. It is likely that they'll obliviate you before this plan is carried out; in that event, we are now prepared to reverse it. Remain calm. Don't do anything foolish— we'll take care of everything."

"So I'll be rescued before they take me away?" She asked in a small voice, once more on the verge of tears.

"Yes, I will make sure of it."

She could no longer hold back the tears, and broke down with relief.

"Thank you... thank you, Professor. I've been so afraid, I don't want to become a slave; it's too horrible to consider!"

"You _won't_, I promise... A plan has already been set in motion; your safety is assured."

He stood up and reached for her discarded clothing, looking quite awkward again as he handed them to her.

"You have to dress quickly now— I must return you to the dungeon before I meet with Malfoy. I'll leave you with some food; be sure to eat all of it. You're not fully healed yet and you need the nutrients."

"Alright, sir."

Snape turned his back to her as she pulled the jumper over her head, then hurriedly wiggled into her jeans.

"Another thing, Miss Granger: I need to impress upon you that it's of utmost importance that my cover remain intact during this mission. Remember: to you, I am just another Death Eater. Once you're safely returned, they'll still think that you've been obliviated, so no one will suspect that my allegiance to the Dark Lord has been leaked. No one can know I've been helping you."

"I understand, sir."

Severus took a deep breath, assured that he'd covered all the necessary bases.

"I'm ready," she announced as soon as her shoes were tied.

"Are you fit enough to walk?" Snape asked, eyeing her unsteady stance.

"Yes, I think so."

Snape nodded, and tapped her head with his wand to disillusion her.

"Follow me, and keep quiet."

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It was several hours before Hermione heard footsteps heading down the corridor toward her cell. She stood up and smoothed her clothes nervously, hoping Snape would be with whoever was approaching. Her heart sunk when Malfoy appeared outside, flanked by a smartly-dressed Death Eater that she didn't recognize. Malfoy scowled at her as he unlocked the door, glancing over her freshly-healed appearance with pointed distaste.

"This way, Mudblood," he spat, stepping aside as she exited the cell to stand next to the other Death Eater, who barely spared her a glance before prodding her towards the exit at the far end of the corridor.

When they'd at last arrived outside the building, Hermione saw someone else approaching in the dark. Her heart grew lighter as she recognized her potions professor stalking toward them, though she did her best not to show it.

"What are you doing here?" Lucius asked, clearly surprised to see him.

"The Dark Lord has agreed to allow me to accompany you to the exchange point. He wants me to personally report on the proceedings."

Lucius eyed the wizard suspiciously, but swallowed his objection. "Very well. We'll apparate in tandem. I'll take the girl."

Severus nodded, briefly making eye contact with Hermione before preparing to apparate. Malfoy gripped her arm tightly, and soon she felt the familiar tug of apparation, straining as all the air was squeezed out of her before landing dizzily on hard ground. The apparation had been excruciatingly protracted, and she figured they must've traveled quite far.

The first thing she noticed was the smell of fish. She'd been to shipyards before, but none like this; there were cargo vessels all around, as well as countless crates, metal pallets, massive containers and all sorts of looming cranes. The entire place was lit by eerie red and orange work lights, setting a frightening industrial scene that was further pronounced by strange humming noises and the creaks and groans of rusty ships. A calm breeze carried dark smoke across the sky from an unseen source, and enveloped them in a miasma of crude oil fumes, dank air and a powerful fishy stench that she was certain would remain on her long after leaving the place.

Lucius pushed her forward roughly, keeping his hold on her upper arm. The others followed as he dragged her along to a narrow flight of steps, leading them down to a walkway that stretched alongside one of the great cargo ships. Hermione glanced back at Snape, who was staring straight ahead with an expression not unlike the one he wore when escorting students to Dumbledore's office to receive due punishments.

A pull on her arm halted her movements as Malfoy turned to face a metal door on the wall beside them, pounding three times before they waited until the door creaked open to reveal a stout, black-bearded man with a gruff demeanor and narrow eyes; Hermione briefly humored herself with the idea that the man looked very much like a pirate.

"Udo is expecting us," Lucius announced in a low voice, as the man looked over Hermione appraisingly, causing her blood to run cold. He fixed her with an unnerving stare as he stepped aside to let them pass. As soon as she stepped into the long, narrow passageway, she felt the buzz of heavy magical wards pass over her. Severus must have felt them, too, since Malfoy heard him pause, and turned toward him.

"What were you expecting, Severus? The security here is tight, as it should be."

Severus recomposed himself, though Hermione hadn't missed the momentary alarm that had crossed his features. Something was wrong.

"I don't know these people, Lucius; I'd prefer a little warning at least before entering an unknown place where my magic is limited."

Lucius smirked at him, enjoying the feeling of control. "My apologies, but there's no need to feel powerless. I assure you that these men are no threat to us; they're simply taking necessary precautions."

Severus frowned at him slightly before continuing forward. "Lead on."

Hermione gulped, trying to convince herself that everything would be fine; that Snape still had a plan, and that he wouldn't break his promise to protect her. Still, the look that had crossed his face after passing through the wards had given her ample cause to be more than a little nervous.

At the end of the corridor was another door, which Lucius stopped again to knock at. When this door opened, Hermione was overwhelmed by the smell of cigar smoke, followed by the unmistakable odor of firewhiskey. Several men were scattered around a medium-sized room, drinking and smoking while foreign music played from a large boombox. Behind a table sat a tan, bald man of medium build with sharp, pointed eyebrows, piercing blue eyes and a long scar down the side of his face; he was the very image of malefice, and Hermione could tell he was in charge simply by how the others oriented themselves around him. He had a commanding presence, with features that were somewhat handsome, if not frightening. He gestured to Lucius with a quick wave of his hand, which held a long cigarette in a lofty manner. Even Lucius seemed slightly intimidated by the man. He barely spared Hermione a glance before sizing up Severus and the other Death Eater, watching each man enter the room with hawk-like eyes and a guarded expression. Hermione couldn't tell if he were perfectly calm, or poised to attack at any moment.

The four of them filtered into the room, Lucius standing in front of the table with Hermione in his grasp. He waited for the other man to speak first. The man paused, taking a long draw from his cigarette as he finally turned his full attention to Hermione, looking over every inch of her with a cold attentiveness that suggested that the situation was perfectly normal for him.

"So this is your mudblood, Lucius," the man spoke in a surprisingly gentle voice with a posh German accent, cigarette smoke curling out of his mouth with each word, "so much fuss for somezhing so small..."

Lucius cleared his throat before answering. "Indeed, Udo; the Dark Lord is particularly keen that this one is placed where no one will find her. I have no doubt that he will be thoroughly impressed when he learns just how effective your methods can be."

Udo looked up at Lucius without lifting his face, staring at him disconcertingly for several moments before replying nonchalantly.

"It is of little interest to me whether _Lord Voldemort_ is impressed by my methods, Lucius..." Lucius flinched at the man's casual, somewhat taunting use of Voldemort's name as he paused to take another drag at his cigarette, narrowing his eyes at Lucius in obvious challenge. The tension in the room was growing more palpable by the second.

"You know vut I want from you," Udo continued, leaning back in his chair, "in exchange, I vill do zis favor. It doesn't matter to me vut you tell your _Dark Lord_."

Lucius stiffened, his fingers tightening painfully around Hermione's arm. She did her best not to react, wanting to draw as little attention to herself as possible.

"Then let us discuss the terms," Lucius managed to respond in an exaggeratedly courteous tone.

"Not in front of the girl," Udo answered, gesturing to Hermione with another flick of his cigarette hand, "Lars will remove her."

Udo gestured to another man with a quick glance, and Hermione's eyes widened as a heavy set man with a beak-like nose and rust-colored stubble approached her. She looked up at Lucius, who sneered down at her with contempt as he reluctantly handed her over to the other man. She then looked to Severus, who was watching the exchange with a closed expression, but looked at her then with eyes which seemed to want to reassure her. She swallowed thickly as Lars hauled her off with meaty hands, and held on to the look Severus had imparted as if it were a lifeline. She closed her eyes until she'd burned it into her memory.

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The room Lars had left her in was small and damp, with no more furnishings than a bunk with two canvas cots stacked along the far wall and an empty locker on the left. A bare light bulb flickered overhead, making rattling electric noises that had been her only distraction as she sat there contemplating her fate. Somewhere down the corridor, a conversation was occurring without her that concerned something absolutely harrowing that might happen to her, and knowing this was wearing her down. She trusted Snape and wanted to believe he'd be able to save her, but had a terrible feeling about the whole situation.

_Snape._ If she did make it out of there, she didn't know if she'd ever be able to look him in the eye again after what he'd seen in her mind earlier that night. Though the embarrassment was still fresh, it felt better to dwell on it rather than on her present circumstances. _Why, oh why did he have to see _those _memories? Why hadn't she thought of something, anything more appropriate? _She hadn't had a chance, really; he'd jumped on that train of thought before she even realized she was thinking it. It was horrible to think that her most private thoughts weren't safe. She promised herself that if she ever got out of there, she'd take some occlumency lessons.

It was a long time before she finally heard someone outside the door. Her face fell when it opened to reveal Lars again, whose beady eyes seemed to look right through her as he shuffled over to her and dragged her off the cot. She reeled back instinctively, not sure why she was resisting but too afraid to go with him unquestioningly, and he backhanded her across the face practically with boredom before dragging her into the corridor.

"What's happening?" Hermione cried, starting to panic, "Where are you taking me?"

Lars didn't answer, but continued dragging mercilessly at her arm as he hauled her down the long corridor in the opposite direction from which she'd come. _Snape had said she might be obliviated before the plan went into motion; was that about to happen? Would she even realize she was being rescued if and when it happened?_

Suddenly there was a commotion at the other end of the corridor, and Hermione turned to see Snape push past another man while Malfoy shouted at him.

"You there! Wait!" Snape bellowed at Lars, causing the large man to scowl in confusion.

"The deal's no good, Lucius!" Snape yelled over his shoulder, "Potter must know that she's still alive! How is anyone to know that they won't simply kill her as soon as she's taken away?"

"Zis is most unusual, Lucius!" Udo was saying, sounding far less casual than he had earlier, "If your colleague here has a problem mit der way I run my business, zen perhaps you should take yours elsewhere!"

Lucius shot Severus a seething glare before turning back to Udo, attempting to negotiate between the two. "Perhaps if we could implement a simple _abeo _charm, Udo; it's not the same as a tracking device— it would simply alter the charmed object upon the moment of the linked subject's demise. All it would tell us is whether or not she's still alive."

"This object is still a way of tracking, Lucius. I don't allow this. If the organization knew I allowed this, my business would be jeopardized."

"There is another way," Snape interjected, gaining everyone's attention. "A way that would be undetectable, unbreakable, and would not leave any physical evidence. Rather than linking the _abeo_ to an object, it can be linked through a mental connection. I can link a part of my mind to hers which would allow me to feel when the connection breaks at the moment of her death. The procedure would be entirely psychic, leaving no trace of interference. Nothing would be jeopardized except for your reputation, should you try to cheat us by killing her after our transaction is completed."

Both Lucius and Udo were eyeing Severus suspiciously. "How will Potter know she's alive if only you can tell?" Lucius inquired.

"He won't; not conclusively at least... this is a compromise. Our spy need only tell Dumbedore that there's an _abeo_ confirming that she lives; he'll have no choice but to assume that it's true, whether or not he believes it. This way, _we, _at least, know that we're not being cheated. The Dark Lord intends for her to suffer, not to pay an exorbitant price for someone else to simply execute her."

"Your colleague treads dangerously, Lucius," Udo spoke with menacing calm, "I have no patience for these baseless accusations. You've insulted me by bringing him here."

"Please, Udo," Lucius soothed in his most diplomatic voice, "You must excuse his rudeness, but surely you can see that Severus' suggestion is valid. Let him form his mental _abeo_, it should make no difference to you. I promise you that none of our future transactions will be this... difficult. You must understand that this is a special case."

Udo stared at him cooly for a moment before replying, "The price has gone up. If I allow this, you must accept my original offer."

Lucius looked like he'd just been punched in the gut, but nodded solemnly. "Very well. Consider it done." Both men looked at Severus, Udo sneering at him before jerking his head in a gesture excusing him to perform his charm. They returned in the direction they'd come from while Severus marched up to Lars, pulling Hermione away from him.

"What happened to her face?" He asked in a dangerous voice, noticing the red welt Lars had left across her cheek.

"What's it to you?" The man mumbled, earning a dark glare from the taller wizard.

"_Leave us," _Severus warned through his teeth, causing the man to begrudgingly shuffle away.

As soon as he was sure Lars was leaving them alone, Severus pulled Hermione back into the small room and shut the door, turning to face her with a stern expression that momentarily made her feel like she was about to be reprimanded.

"What's wrong?" She asked in a small voice, causing his eyes to soften just a fraction.

"There have been some complications, Miss Granger." Her blood turned to ice as she considered his meaning. "I was not expecting my magic to be so limited in this place. It was shortsighted. I had placed a tracking charm on you that The Order was using to follow you here, but it was dismantled as soon as you entered this building. I'm unable to send out a patronus through these wards; I can only hope that they managed to trace you as far as this shipyard, even if they don't know your precise location. Someone should be out there looking for you at this very moment."

Hermione nodded, trying to interpret that as good news.

"I'll find a way to alert them, somehow." He motioned for her to sit on the lower cot, while he leaned uncomfortably against the locker beside her. "But first, I _will _make a psychic connection with you, just in case anything goes wrong."

"...So you'll know when I'm dead? What good will that do?" Snape resisted the urge to roll his eyes, pinching his lips together in frustration.

"I intend to make the link more complicated than that, Miss Granger. Do you know about the _impressio _charm?"

"The... yes, I think I do, actually: isn't it used by magical artists to create a mental impression of a subject, which they project onto canvases as they paint them?"

"Indeed, that's one of its more popular uses. It can also be used, however, to create a psychic link between people, allowing them to receive such impressions over the connection. The shared impressions aren't nearly as vivid as they are for individuals, like the artists, though... they can become distorted over long distances. They also weaken over time. But for awhile, I can use the _impressio_ to track you, as long as you're relaying impressions of your location."

"But how will I be able to send them after I've been obliviated?"

"The link will still hold, and you don't need to be sending them consciously. I can summon them, with some effort."

Hermione's face betrayed her anxiety, and Snape leaned closer to place a stiff hand on her shoulder.

"It will be alright, Miss Granger; hopefully it won't even come to this. This is only a precaution. I intend to see you returned to The Order before sunrise. ...If, for whatever reason, that plan fails... then rest assured that _I will find you._"

Hermione's lip quivered, but with a faltering breath she pulled herself together and looked up at him with eyes full of tears that hadn't fallen. "Alright. Make the connection. I'm ready."

Snape breathed deeply and raised his wand, focusing intently on Hermione's eyes as he spoke the incantation. She felt him entering her mind again, though this time felt entirely different. He wasn't entering any of her thoughts, but was pushing his way into a part of her mind that seemed remote; it was disorienting to be so focused on it. She felt him pausing there and feeling around, inhabiting a space that was not accustomed to being inhabited, even by her. He seemed to be activating it somehow, making it more sensitive and alert, as she began to half-consciously authorize the connection that he seemed to be asking permission for, apparently requiring her consent. When he withdrew, she felt a residual presence left over that was fading already, though she knew it was still there. Her eyes took a moment to focus, and when she saw his face, she was surprised by the profound expression she saw reflected there; whatever he'd just done had certainly been intimate for her, and she wondered how he'd been affected by it. She focused on that image of him, wondering what would happen if she tried to send that impression to him. As soon as the thought registered with her, he gasped slightly and began blinking rapidly, and she knew it worked. Her eyes widened, and he shook his head as if to rid the image from his own mind, and stared at her.

"It won't be this strong for very long," he said quietly.

Suddenly his face hardened again, and he gripped her arm gently. "We must go now; I'm going to try to find a way out of here."

He was surprised when she pulled back, and turned to her in confusion.

"You're going with me? But they'll know it was you, Professor! You can't be caught breaking me out of here..."

"I need to send out a patronus," he insisted, "I'll explain myself when the time comes. Just follow along!"

Hermione was incredibly nervous— now for the both of them— but did as he told her to. Fortunately the corridor was empty, and she tried to keep up as he rapidly approached the far end. They had just reached the door and opened it to reveal a flight of stairs leading out to another loading deck, when they heard a familiar voice behind them.

"Oi! Where are you going?" Lars shouted, causing Severus to turn rapidly with a look of annoyance.

"To the transfer point, where else?" He huffed, "I'm finished with her."

Lars eyed him speculatively as he slowly approached, "Well you're going the wrong way then, aren't you? That way leads outside."

"Isn't the transfer point outside?" Severus inquired with irritation.

"Nej. This way." Lars growled, waving him along as he turned for Snape to follow. "Shut that door."

As soon as his back was turned, Severus hit him with a stunner, making Hermione cover her mouth to suppress an involuntary squeal of shock as Lars toppled over and hit the ground with a dull thud.

"Quickly," Severus intoned, pulling her back toward the stairwell. He pushed her in front of him, and she clamored up as fast as she could, hesitating at the top to check that the coast was clear. As soon as they stepped out, a ward was triggered and Hermione turned to Severus in alarm, finding that he'd definitely noticed it as well...

"_Expecto Patronum!" _He incanted, straining as the silver doe leapt forth from his wand and darted into the air. "Come on," he rasped, steering her toward a corner. The moment they rounded it, several of Udo's men appeared ahead of them, wands at the ready. Snape barely had a moment to react before a spell fired over his head, knocking down one of Udo's men. They retaliated swiftly, and Snape pulled Hermione back around the corner they'd just turned as spells missed them by seconds. A pair of wizards had arrived on brooms, and were occupied with the duel while Snape waited impatiently for one of them to whisk Hermione away to safety.

"What's going on here?" Udo suddenly called from the stairwell, causing Snape to curse under his breath.

"What do we do now?" Hermione whispered frantically, realizing how pear-shaped everything had just gone.

Before Snape could answer, a horrible scream tore through the air as one of the flying wizards fell from his broom, snapping his neck as he hit the ground. Without anyone to shield him, the second wizard retreated, being too outnumbered to continue fighting.

"He's leaving!" Hermione wailed, "Oh no!"

"More will arrive shortly!" Snape assured, "I just need to stall—"

"Severus!" Malfoy spat as he cleared the top of the stairwell, "What the hell is going on?"

"It was a raid," Snape lied, "they looked like aurors..."

"What are you doing out here?" Lucius demanded, earning another patented look of irritation from Severus.

"Taking her to the transfer point!" Severus countered, "I had just finished the abeo charm when that brutish oaf _Lars_ assaulted me in the stairwell."

"Why did you stun him?"

"_As I said_," Severus ground out, "he _assaulted _me— and just after I'd performed the psychic charm, which is particularly draining and disorienting." He paused before adding, "...I may have overreacted."

"_Get down here at once!" _Lars called out from below, "You risk exposing us!"

Snape reluctantly obliged, pulling Hermione with him as he followed Lucius back down the stairs. He felt Hermione shivering under his grip, and he smoothed his thumb in small circles against her skin to comfort her. Back in the corridor, they saw that Lars had been pulled to the side and propped limply against the wall, and they each held their breath as they stepped past him.

"We must move her immediately," Udo was saying, clearly tense and agitated. "The sooner she's out of here, the easier it will be to cover up this mess."

"I understand," Lucius answered, "there's no more reason to delay. We're finished here."

"This... inconvenience... will cost you another favor, I'm afraid, Lucius." Udo said with no trace of sympathy.

Lucius grimaced, shooting a dark look at Hermione. "She's certainly one expensive whore," he scoffed, "I doubt whether she's really worth all of this!"

"That's for the Dark Lord to decide, Lucius," Snape warned, causing the blonde wizard to sneer back at him as he clenched his jaw tightly.

Back in the room they'd all first arrived at, the Death Eater spy was waiting with a few of Udo's men, who were looking rather nervous. "It may have been a raid," Udo announced, "we must take all necessary precautions. Ivanek, Croll; you two will escort them to the transfer point. Do not waste any time, I need her out of here." The two men he indicated to nodded and stepped forward, Croll taking the lead while Ivanek gestured for the three Death Eaters and Hermione to go ahead of him. When Snape hesitated, Udo addressed him quietly: "Ivanek will see to it that you don't lose your way again. We can't afford for you to get... how did you put it? ..._disoriented_, yes?" Severus then fell into place with no more than a caustic glance in Udo's direction, following behind Malfoy and the spy.

They were led down yet another long corridor, this one quite narrow and claustrophobic. There were no lights save for those provided by each wizard's illuminated wand, and the thin air was completely stale and cloying to the throat. Snape had released his hold on Hermione's arm, and without it she suddenly felt exposed and even more vulnerable. She was thankful that, at least, he was still close by; _what if she'd been left alone with these men? How would she get through this without him?_

The procession slowed down to a halt as Croll unlocked a door up ahead, and Hermione's heart began racing painfully in her chest. Even with Snape behind her, she did not feel prepared for whatever was about to happen behind that door. She slowly turned her head to the side, keeping it down and glancing only at the part of him that she could see in her peripheral vision. He was standing close behind her; so close that she could reach back and touch his hand. She stared at it, willing it to comfort her. Then, as if he could sense her thoughts, his fingers twitched, and he carefully raised them to her elbow, giving her a small squeeze of reassurance. She faced forward again, and for a moment she wondered how he knew, before she remembering the link; she must've been sending him an impression. She sighed, grateful for the small touch that still lingered comfortingly at her elbow. It was short-lived, though, as the very next moment they were moving through the passage, his hand falling away from her.

The passage had opened into a large bunker, which was oddly shaped with several side-passages, low ceilings, and wide, shallow stairwells leading down in two directions. Graffiti marred the walls, and the stench of urine was wafting heavily from the stairwell to the left. It was unfortunate that, at that moment, Hermione realized she needed to pee.

"Is this the transfer point?" Snape inquired, turning to Ivanek.

"Udo has summoned the movers," the sinister, hoary-faced man replied, "We will wait here for them."

"For how long?" Lucius asked, clearly offended by his surroundings.

"Not long," Ivanek answered with a slight smirk.

Hermione decided that this might be the only opportunity she had to relieve herself, and spoke up with a raspy voice. "I need to use the loo."

Everyone looked at her then, and she flushed at the unwanted attention.

"Is there a facility she can use?" Snape asked, when no one offered. Ivanek gestured toward the left stairwell with irritation. Snape took her arm and started heading in the direction Ivanek had indicated, but was halted before he'd taken two steps.

"I'll take her," Ivanek said. Snape gently pushed her forward, keeping his eyes trained on Ivanek, who stared back with a look of icy amusement. Hermione felt cold, bony fingers grip her arm as she was led down the stairs and around a corner to a dark room from which the foul stench was emanating. Ivanek held up his wand to reveal a hole in the ground, gesturing to it and jerking his head to indicate that he expected her to enter the room. There was no door. Hermione stood beside the hole, waiting for him to turn around. He didn't.

"Are you just going to stand there?" She asked, with more petulance than she intended. Ivanek just stared at her with an unnerving expression, leaning forward with one arm hanging at his side, the other raised above his head and resting on the lintel of the entryway, gripping his lit wand.

Hermione realized he wasn't going to allow her any privacy, and tried hard to override her fear. She wanted to cry, tears pricking her eyes as her face flushed and a cold sweat broke over her. She looked at the hole again, swallowing back her disgust and discomfort as she focused on relieving herself as quickly as possible. She quickly fumbled with her jeans, determinedly avoiding eye contact with Ivanek as she positioned herself over the hole, leaning forward to shield herself as she hurriedly dropped her pants around her knees, squatting and letting her hair fall over her face as she tried to relax enough to let the urine flow. She fumbled to right her clothes again as soon as she'd finished, keeping her head down and her hair in her face as she shuffled forward, cringing as Ivanek took her arm again.

Snape noticed the humiliation on Hermione's face as she rejoined him, and shot a dark look at Ivanek, who appeared unfazed. Hermione kept her gaze down the whole time.

"They're coming," Croll called over to Ivanek, standing at attention. Approaching footsteps could be heard issuing from one of the side passages, echoing ominously across the walls. An authoritative man with a thin beard suddenly appeared before them, walking with purpose and focusing on Hermione the moment he entered.

"Udo says we're pressed for time," the man spoke, "let's make this quick."

Ivanek stepped forward and pulled Hermione along with him, shoving her before the thin-bearded man. Before she knew what was happening, the man had taken her hand and pressed the tip of his wand into her palm, causing her to yelp as a burning pain seared her flesh. He released her and she pulled her hand to her chest, clutching it in horror before looking down and seeing a glowing red brand flash and smoulder before disappearing. She looked to Snape, who had a hard look in his eyes and was clenching his jaw, but appeared otherwise unmoved.

The thin-bearded man then grabbed the scruff of her collar and pulled her forward into the passageway, forcing her to march toward the two other men who were waiting with ready wands. Snape moved to follow, but Ivanek stopped him.

"You three will exit this way," Ivanek said, gesturing toward the second passage.

"I have orders to supervise the proceedings," Snape insisted, "I have to confirm that she's been properly obliviated."

"Your orders mean nothing to me," Ivanek answered in a sly tone, "the movers take over from here. You must leave now."

Snape stared down the man in cold challenge, not budging. "I _will_ oversee her obliviation," Snape said slowly, "it's not up for dispute."

"No, it's not," Ivanek replied coolly, his menacing eyes flashing with danger. "No one but the movers leave through that point."

Snape stared at him for another long moment before abruptly turning to head down the passage after Hermione. Ivanek's wand was soon drawn, causing Snape to spin around instinctively, taking a dueling stance.

"Gentlemen, please!" Lucius interrupted, "There's no need for violence! This is a civilized transaction— the terms have already been settled!"

"Your man is pushing those terms, Lucius," Ivanek muttered, keeping his penetrating gaze fixed on Snape, "I have my instructions."

"Your _instructions_, I believe, were to escort us to the transfer point..." Lucius argued.

"This _is _the transfer point," Ivanek countered.

"Perhaps it is an _initial_ transfer point, but the point my colleague and I were referring to was the point from which the obliviated girl would be transferred to her next location."

"_Semantics_, Lucius," Ivanek complained. "Don't waste my time with your wordplay."

"This is not a game," Snape countered darkly, "You're interfering with the Dark Lord's orders. Lower your wand, or prepare to face the consequences."

Suddenly a flash of light flew toward Snape from the far side of the room, where Croll had decided to initiate the action. It was quickly shielded by the Death Eater spy, who took on the man with Lucius while Snape engaged Ivanek. Spells were rapidly firing, and Croll was soon subdued just as Snape landed a vicious blow on Ivanek, blasting him against the wall with so much force that the concrete cracked and fell apart in several places.

"_Damn it, Severus!_" Lucius hissed, "What are you thinking? Do you realize the damage you've done?"

"I could care less about your business relations right now, Lucius; I have orders to follow!" With that, Snape took off down the passageway, leaving Lucius and the Death Eater only a moment to consider the scene that had just unfolded before chasing after him.

"Don't ruin this, Snape!" Lucius shouted behind him, "I'm warning you! I won't fail again!"

At the end of the passage, Snape arrived at a locked door. He threw it open with a quick _alohomora_, stepping out onto another loading deck. Hermione and the three movers were nowhere in sight. After casting his patronus to alert the Order members (disguised as aurors), he focused on his psychic link to Hermione, summoning an impression of her whereabouts. He saw images of a smaller deck with water on either side, and the blurry form of a small ship ahead of her; _were they taking her onboard? _Snape flew into the air to scan his surroundings, trying to figure out where the smaller vessels were docked. Once he spotted the place, he apparated there mid-air with a loud crack that Lucius heard just in time to follow on the tail of his sound waves.

Severus landed heavily on the dock, scanning for any sign of movement. He knew she was nearby, but his ground vision was impaired by the many ships harbored throughout the network of planks. He took off in the right direction, knowing she'd been headed toward the far end of the dockyard, nearest the open water. He knew that it was too late to summon the Order members, who were probably just arriving at the last location he'd sent his patronus from. He'd have to save her himself; the plan had already gone too far. It seemed that they meant to obliviate her once onboard the ship, and by that time they'd surely be underwater already, transporting to who-knows-where. Dumbledore had urged him not to do anything hasty; that his cover must be protected— but surely he didn't mean for him to just abandon the girl to these people if the situation became too hot. _Actually, that's probably exactly what Dumbledore expected to happen,_ Severus reasoned, which is why he allowed him to carry out this plan in the first place. He thought that Severus would be able to _put the cause first_, sacrificing the girl if he had to. This, at least, was a chance for her to survive— if you could call the life she'd be left with 'surviving'. Sometimes the old man expected too much from him. She was just a girl; one of his own students... how could he live with himself if he left her to such a fate? Especially when the whole terrible idea had been _his_ in the first place? _What had he done?_

Hermione had just stepped onto the ship's deck when she saw him. The sun was just beginning to rise at the edge of the water, and she knew he was too late. _I intend to see you returned before sunrise_, he'd told her. She didn't blame him. She knew he'd tried; that he'd gotten in deeper than he realized. And now, she could tell, he meant to save her _himself_; to blow his cover in order to keep his promise to her. He was gaining on them; if she stalled, he might be able to reach her in time... she didn't want to go with them— she wanted him to come and take her away, to hold on to her and not let go this time; to tell her everything would be alright. She gripped the railing tightly as the man behind her prodded her forward. _Just a few more moments, and he'll reach her..._

But then, at a fair distance behind him, she saw Malfoy approaching with the Death Eater spy— _too late. _There'd be no way of explaining himself if they saw him take her now. Once exposed, Voldemort would surely never rest until Snape was killed for his treachery. It was her or him. This was her chance— finally— to prove herself to him; now he'd know what she was really made of. She focused on the image of Malfoy catching up behind him, and sent it to him through the link, hoping he'd understand. She saw his face just before she let go of the railing: a loaded look full of surprise, denial and abject horror as realization struck. She closed her eyes and sunk down into the hull, the other man quick on her heels and closing the hatch in a split second as he gave the all-clear.

Severus watched the ship disappear below the water with a green flash, his heart sinking along with it.

...


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

"_Hermione? Can you hear me?"_

She knew that voice... _say something else_, she thought, wanting to hear it again; wanting to confirm that it held an uncharacteristic gentleness now; wanting to believe that it sounded that way _just for her_.

"Hermione, are you alright?"

_There it was again!_ She hadn't been mistaken— Professor Snape was definitely addressing her, and he definitely sounded concerned. _But why? What happened? _She realized she was lying on a hard floor, and her head ached horribly. _Had she fainted? Perhaps she'd miscalculated some ingredients on a particularly noxious potion, and had knocked herself out... oh God, how embarrassing! How unlike her! She must've been distracted by his voice again; lulled into another inappropriate daydream... and now she was paying the price for it. He was going to be so disappointed with her..._

"Please, Hermione— wake up!"

_Perhaps if she just laid there with her eyes closed, he'd leave her alone... someone would have to take her to the infirmary, where she could be mortified in private. Why hadn't someone stepped in and helped already? ... and why was he calling her by her first name?_

She heard a rustling noise, followed by the _pop_ of a potion vial coming uncorked. A sharp, bitter smell wafted toward her, causing her to tense: _oh no! He was going to make her take a nasty reviving draught!_

Her eyes suddenly flew open and she shot back, holding a hand up defensively.

"No, Professor, please! I'm awake!" She stammered, cringing in embarrassment, and from remembering the foul taste of the reviving draught Poppy had forced down her when she'd finally awoken from the basilisk's spell. She blinked several times as she gradually became aware of her surroundings, realizing that she was definitely not at Hogwarts. Professor Snape was kneeling on the floor across from her with the strangest expression on his face, his jaw slack and his eyes wide with something akin to bewilderment. She didn't know whether to be more concerned about the look he was giving her, or about the fact that she seemed to be on the floor of a strange place with him. _And was he wearing ...a t-shirt?_

"You called me 'Professor'..."

Whatever she was expecting him to say, that wasn't it.

"Yes, well, you called me _Hermione,_ which I think gives me more reason to be surprised..."

She watched as his face dropped slightly, and her brows pinched together as she worried that she'd inadvertently hurt him somehow.

"You are _Hermione, _aren't you?" He asked in a small voice, afraid that she hadn't actually come back to him, and was still operating under the false idea that her name was 'Nina.' Her puzzled look seemed to confirm this fear.

"Are you alright, sir?" she asked, wondering whether she wasn't the only one who'd suffered some kind of head injury.

"_What is your name?"_ He demanded, startling her with his urgency.

"It's Hermione Granger, of course!" She watched him visibly relax, then take on a wholly different expression as he seemed to contemplate something of terrible consequence. His demeanor turned quite portentous as he asked his next question with chilling solemnity.

"...and _how old_ are you, Miss Granger?"

_Why on Earth was he asking her _that_? _

"...I'm sixteen, sir..." her lips pulled awkwardly to the side of her face as she watched him react to her simple statement, looking as if he was going to be sick.

"Is something wrong? _Where are we_, professor? What's going on?"

Severus rose to his feet and ran his hand down his face, staring off into the distance for a few moments before slowly pacing in front of her. His actions were making her increasingly nervous, and she fidgeted in place while she waited for him to answer her. It was then that she noticed the bare skin of her legs and midriff, and glanced down in shock to find herself dressed in a pair of skimpy cut-off shorts and a dirty crop top, with no bra.

"What am I wearing?" she gasped, halting his movements as he turned to her with another odd look, then losing himself in his own thoughts again as he resumed his pace.

Hermione noticed that her breasts seemed unusually full under the little t-shirt, wondering how the absence of a bra could possibly account for the obvious enhancement. She was about to entertain the outrageous notion that her out-of-sorts potions professor had magically enhanced them for her before dressing her in the bizarre clothing, when she noticed that her legs seemed different, as well— they were much more defined than she'd ever seen them... she squeezed her thigh, noticing the strong muscles that had never been there before... even her hands seemed changed, and she held them before her face, marveling at their newfound elegance. She lowered her hands when she caught a glimpse of Snape behind them, regarding her with a curiously troubled expression.

"What's going on, professor?" she whispered, sensing that a heavy explanation was in order. Snape drew in a long breath before sighing softly, approaching her to offer a hand. She took it and allowed him to pull her up and over to a sofa, where she sat down carefully as he positioned a chair in front of her. She had felt uneasy standing up, confused that she seemed taller than she remembered being, and sunk into the sofa cushion with a creeping sense of dread. Little chills were darting through her now, and her head pulsed with an unfamiliar pressure.

"Miss Granger, I must ask: what is the last thing you can remember, before you woke up here a moment ago?" It seemed to pain him to ask her this question, and the little chills running through her increased as a burning heat began forming in her ear canal, amplifying the pressure in her head.

"I... I'm not sure..." she started, confused by the muddled mess that was her recent memories.

"Please, try and answer the question," he pushed, bracing his kneecaps in each hand.

"Well..." she tried, "I was at Hogwarts, wasn't I? With Ron and Harry, and we were... oh! And Neville, and Luna, too... yes, and Ginny, of course; that's right... we were—" She broke off suddenly, looking up at him with slight trepidation as she remembered what her and her friends had set out to do. _Should she tell him? _Harry had tried to warn him about Sirius in Umbridge's office, and his reaction was less than helpful at the time... _but surely that was just an act? _

"You were heading to the Ministry, to break into the Department of Mysteries," he answered for her, causing her to look up at him in surprise.

"You knew?" she exclaimed, marveling at his seeming omniscience.

"Do you remember what happened afterwards?" he pressed, ignoring her question.

She thought about it for a moment, struggling to recall the events themselves, but knowing that a battle had taken place. _Why was she having such a hard time remembering the details? Had she been injured during the battle?_

"Was I hurt, professor?" she asked timidly, hoping he might explain her situation to her.

"You don't remember..." he gulped, stiffening as he prepared to take on the unwanted burden of having to relate any pertinent details to her.

"I... not everything," she answered, searching her mind for answers that it refused to give. It seemed that the harder she tried, the worse her chills became, and the pressure in her head was becoming unbearable. Snape must've noticed her distress, because he leaned toward her then and asked, "What's the matter?"

"I have a headache," she complained feebly, pressing her hands to either side of her skull in an effort to diffuse the pressure. Snape looked worried, and reached out to take her head in his hands, placing his warm fingers over hers as he tilted her face to look into her eyes. Despite her discomfort, her breath hitched as his gaze locked onto hers, searching for signs of trauma. She couldn't remember ever being so close to him.

Severus knew that it was dangerous trying to revive her lost memories, but feared that leaving her oblivious to them would risk the chance of her blocking them off forever, trapping her in the delusion that she was still sixteen years old and uncorrupted. As much as he wished to spare her the gruesome details of the reality her mind was barring her from, he couldn't allow her to psychologically erase over a year of her life, knowing that heavy repercussions could result in the form of all kinds of complexes and the endless nightmares born of repression. She'd end up a complete head case, and there were few outlets for the psychologically unstable in the wizarding world. There were quite enough loony wizards and witches as it was; he wouldn't see her end up holed away in some quaint and quirky hovel like so many before her, or worse— given over to the Dark Arts. She had a brilliant mind, and it would be unconscionable for him to let it go to waste. He had a responsibility to save her, and this time he wouldn't let her down.

"Miss Granger, listen to me. You've suffered some major memory loss. I think that your memories can be restored over time, but first I need you to understand something: _you're not sixteen years old anymore._ It's been well over a year since the incident at the Ministry, and you're nearly eighteen now..."

Hermione focused on him unsteadily, his words failing to comport with her mental processes. _Had he said she was almost eighteen? How could that even be possible?_ A wave of nausea broke over her, and her vision went fuzzy as little phosphenes skittered across her eyeballs. She felt Snape's fingers grip her chin, and tried to concentrate on the blurry image of him looking down at her with open concern.

"I don't feel so well..." she moaned, reaching up and clinging to his wrist in an effort to ground herself.

"I think I should give you a reviving draught," he muttered with an edge to his voice that betrayed his nervousness.

"No, thank you," she protested, "I just want to lie down."

"I don't think that's such a good idea, Miss Granger. You need to stay alert right now."

Severus took up the draught he meant to offer her earlier, holding it to her lips and bidding her to drink it. He frowned when she pulled her head away and turned from him, holding up a hand to stop him.

"No! I don't want that," she insisted.

"Miss Granger," he huffed, "I know it doesn't have the most appealing taste, but you need to take it— your mind is trying to shut down, and you need to fight it!"

"It's not the taste!" she moaned, feeling like her head was about to cave in from the enormous pressure engulfing it, "I just can't take that right now! Please, can't you see I'm in misery? I really need to rest for a moment..."

Severus knew it wasn't a good idea, but was unwilling to prolong her suffering any more than he felt he absolutely had to. He reluctantly allowed her to lie down, placing his pillow under her head as she curled into a ball and closed her eyes tightly.

"My head _hurts_," she cried, pressing her face into the pillow in a useless effort to assuage the pain. Severus considered offering her a pain potion, but feared that the dulling effects would be adverse to her present condition— not to mention the fact that she still had a strong dose of calming tea in her system. Instead, he lifted his hand to her brow and soothed over it, stroking his long fingers into her hairline and along the side of her face, rubbing his thumb gently over her temple in slow circles. Her eyelids relaxed a little with his ministrations, though the rest of her body remained tense.

Slowly, her mind started to calm as her thoughts stopped spinning madly, allowing her to focus on one at a time. The first thought she was able to hold onto was the thought that _Professor Snape was touching her face_ in a very tender manner, and it felt much, much too good. Though part of her was trying hard to pull her under the impervious veil of a deep sleep, an even more tenacious part of her insisted on staying awake long enough to feel every nuance of his gentle touch. She may never get another chance to feel his hands on her like this, and she meant to be awake while it lasted. Meanwhile, another thought crept insidiously alongside the first, threatening to spoil it despite her unconscious protestations. This one seemed to whisper little secrets to her, leaking them across her conscious mind like black oil spreading across a becalmed sea, contaminating everything it touches. _He knows, _it whispered, _he knows everything..._

Hermione stirred beneath his hand, making Severus pause.

"_Don't stop," _she whispered pleadingly, her eyes still closed. A frisson of something troubling ran through him, but he resumed his soothing gestures, stroking his fingers through her hair with more confidence now.

Hermione felt the change in his strokes, and a new feeling bloomed in her belly as her heart thumped noticeably in her chest. Still the serpentine thought coiled around her pleasurable awareness, constricting it and blackening it with its poisonous insinuations. _What was it trying to tell her? _She was sure she didn't want to know. She tried to ignore it, focusing on the sensation of his fingers combing through her hair, stifling a pleasured sigh. Just as his hand ghosted across the back of her head, one of the black thoughts broke through, causing her to gasp as she recalled the feeling of his hand gripping the hair at the back of her head, pulling on it as... as...! _Did that really happen? _Hermione tried to shake the thought, dismissing it as a dark fantasy. _There's no way! Surely she hadn't ground herself against her professor like some kind of... _Suddenly her body convulsed slightly as another black thought followed the first, snaking along quickly now, forcing an image on her which involved Snape tied to a chair, her breasts bare before him and her legs straddling him as she tried to... _No! _

Severus startled as she convulsed again, this time more violently.

"Hermione?" Severus took hold of her arm in an effort to still her, noticing her erratic breathing and the beads of sweat that were forming on her flushed brow.

_He'd gripped her arm like that before, _the coiling thoughts whispered, assaulting her with an image of him leading her before him as they made their way down a long, dark passage. _When did that happen? _She started convulsing again, this time full-on seizing as black memories tried to work their way into her overwrought consciousness while her mind attempted to compensate by shutting down. Those dusky thoughts were persistent, though, and the ensuing melee had her whole body reacting to the conflict.

Severus began to panic, not knowing exactly what was wrong with her. His first thought was to force the calming draught that he'd pocketed earlier down her throat, though he hesitated at the fear that he might put her into a temporary coma; but as her seizures became more violent, he felt he had no choice left, other than to keep holding her down and hoping that her mind didn't snap from the chaos it was clearly suffering. Summoning the vial, he unstoppered it with his teeth as his other hand held her face and neck, then lifted her as much as he could while pouring the liquid down her throat. She sputtered a little, with a drop trickling down from the corner of her mouth as the rest worked its way into her system. Gradually her seizing slowed, and Severus exhaled in relief as she lay there only twitching slightly now, facial ticks flashing across her features every couple seconds. He pried open an eyelid to find her eyes rolling into the back of her head, and realized she was about to fall under a deep sleep. Despite his reservations, he decided to allow her body to do what it needed to, hoping she'd wake up restored. After wiping the potion from her lips and face, Severus slumped onto the sofa beside her, leaning back into the arm beside her legs as he rubbed at his own temple. He watched over her for a good hour or so before allowing himself to close his eyes and rest.

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Hermione awoke with a numbness in her legs and a muddled head, feeling as if her brain had been removed and wet cotton had been stuffed in its place. She groaned as she sat up slightly, cradling her face as she turned to find the cause of her cut-off circulation: Severus was slumped over her legs, fast asleep with his head nestled in the crook of his bent arm. He looked rather uncomfortable, but she hated to have to disturb him. She pulled herself up as much as she could without shifting her hips too much, straightening the pillow behind her before leaning back to admire the sight of the dark man huddled protectively over her body. She carefully reached out and ran her fingers over his sleek hair, continuing this for several minutes before allowing her fingers to stray to his face, tracing the lines of his brow and trailing lightly over the distinguished ridges of his nose. She saw his left eye twitch and stilled her hand mid-air, lowering it to trace his eyebrows next when he didn't move further. Her fingers were daintily skimming the skin of his cheek when his eye opened slowly, looking up at her as his expression remained frozen as it had been in sleep. She smiled softly at him as he raised his head to look at her, his eyes scanning over her carefully before relaxing a little, glad to find her recovered. She smirked when she noticed the red mark on his face from where his hair had been trapped against the skin of her thigh, leaving a rough impression of sharp and swirled lines. He frowned slightly, not understanding the cause of her amusement, before pulling himself up into a more dignified position. As he moved off of her legs, she gratefully stretched them across his lap, squirming as circulation was restored in prickly tingles.

"How are you feeling?" he asked rubbing his knuckles into his eye socket as he readjusted himself.

"Hmmmm..." she purred, stretching her arms above her head and sinking lower onto the sofa, her legs twisting in his lap as she stretched her hip and thigh muscles. Severus pursed his lips and raised an eyebrow as he looked down at her maneuvering, wondering whether she was intentionally being so forward.

"I feel pretty strange, actually," she mused, biting the side of her lip as she narrowed her eyes at him, then softening her features as a small smile quirked the side of her mouth.

"I'd feel a lot better if you'd lay down here with me," she quipped, looking across at him with alluring eyes, her arms bent luxuriously above her head.

Severus' chest constricted as he gazed down at the wanton female stretched across him, becoming all too aware of the heat radiating off of her lithe body.

"Miss Granger," he answered in a strained voice, "you forget yourself... kindly move your legs."

"Gladly," she quipped, twisting again so that her knee brushed over his crotch.

"_Miss Granger!" _Severus protested, standing up and pushing her legs aside as he turned to face her with a look of shock and exasperation. She was quirking an eyebrow questioningly at him, his exclamation working around her muddled head.

In a small voice she asked, "Why are you calling me _that_, now?"

Severus' expression dropped for a second, suddenly feeling sorry to have to revert to formalities again when he'd gotten so used to thinking of her only as 'Hermione.' Still, it would not do to allow such personal feelings to affect his relationship with her now, especially since it seemed she was suddenly all too eager to act on the once-innocent crush she'd secretly harbored for him. He was obligated to see to it that he didn't encourage such actions.

"I think it would be best if we reverted to formalities again, for the sake of maintaining an appropriate relationship," he said with difficulty, "since you're still quite, quite vulnerable in your present condition. It would be remiss of me to allow you to believe that I have any intentions other than restoring your memories and ensuring your safety before leaving this place." He noticed her expression falter before continuing, "Please understand that I don't want to hurt you in any way. My concern is entirely for your welfare. ...Though I must put this distance between us, you can rest assured that I think that you are..." (he seemed to choke for a moment before finishing with obvious difficulty), "...a very lovely girl."

Hermione stared at him quietly for a long moment before allowing a soft smile to replace the confused expression that still lingered around her eyes. He was surprised when she rose from the sofa and stood in front of him, reaching out and lightly grasping the hand at his side as she studied his face curiously.

"And I think that you're an awfully sweet man," she sad quietly, staring into his eyes with overwhelming sincerity.

"But I'm still _not Hermione,_ or 'Miss Granger,' either; I'm just Nina. So your concerns are wasted on me," she smiled as she rose up to plant a soft kiss on his lips.

Severus felt his blood run cold even as her warm kiss sent delightful shivers through his tortured nerves. _She'd reverted back! _

As 'Nina' pulled away to smile at him with a deep, dark gaze, he glimpsed the sight of his own pale reflection in each of her eyes. He realized in that moment that there were two distinct personalities occupying the same body before him: one shy and reserved, the other boldly sensual. One believed she was still a school girl; the other believed she was a common whore. One operated with the mentality of a sixteen year-old, and the other operated with the mentality of a full-grown woman. Neither acknowledged the truth of their past. And both were smitten with him.

.

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_**A/N: It just gets wilder from here, folks! I hope you're enjoying - let me know how you like it so far!**_


	18. Chapter 18

_**A/N: So sorry for the longer-than-expected delay; just returned from a crazy camping trip that didn't quite clear my head, as intended. If all goes according to plan, the next series of outlined chapters should be following in quick(er) succession. Thanks for your patience! **_

_***(Warning: truly 'M' content is forthcoming, eventually... I don't want to give anything away here, but please feel free to PM me if you're concerned and want me to elaborate)***_

_**Also, thank you so much for your reviews - they helped pull me out of my post-graduation funk (:**_

Chapter 18

Severus stepped out onto the porch to find Nina leaning against the side of the house, her long legs stretched out and slightly splayed in front of her as she read through another one of her pornographic magazines. He suppressed a disparaging remark about her unladylike posture, thinking _what's the use? — _He was fairly convinced that this 'Nina' was beyond reform, and he was determined to undermine this personality as much as possible in the hope of making the 'real' Hermione stronger, so that he could eventually restore her to her former self. He'd found little help in his books as he formulated this process, and he realized that he was getting into some very deep water with no more than a singular determination and a wavering intellect to keep him afloat. He also realized that he wasn't really the one at risk of drowning.

Nina noticed him looming over her, of course, but pretended to ignore him as she read the same paragraph over and over. She'd decided that he'd behaved rather rudely after she'd kissed him, ignoring her as he paced the room for the longest time, only pausing to conjure a book out of thin air and flip through it frantically, casting strange glances her way every now and then before returning to his thoughts. The only time he'd paid her any legitimate attention was when she remarked that she didn't make a habit out of kissing men on the lips, and that he ought to be more grateful for the compliment. After staring at her while a conflicted mix of emotions crossed his eyes, he opened his mouth as if to speak, before he apparently thought better of it and averted his eyes as he turned from her stiffly. She'd huffed in frustration, grabbed a small stack of magazines and heavily trotted out to the front porch, where she'd sat for the last couple hours trying to ignore him, as well as her headache and her growling stomach.

"I wish to speak with you," Severus finally said, though she refused to look up from her magazine. "It is a matter of some importance."

Nina didn't answer; she continued to casually skim over her magazine as if he wasn't there. Severus frowned at her non-reaction, considering his next move.

"What's your zodiac sign?" She spoke suddenly, without looking at him.

"I beg your pardon?" Severus replied, though he had heard her clearly enough. He wondered what she was playing at now.

"_Zodiac Sex_— the article I'm reading. It's all about how your birth sign determines your sexual traits." She spoke somewhat disinterestedly, still refusing to look up at him, even when he huffed indignantly.

"I bet you're a Capricorn," she smirked, suppressing a private joke.

Severus frowned deeper, startled that she'd guessed correctly and concerned about what this insight apparently revealed to her.

"There's nothing remotely scientific about astrology— especially the muggle variety, though the wizarding kind is hardly more reputable."

"Is that a 'yes'?" She grinned, finally looking up at him with a mischievous expression. "You _are _a Capricorn?"

Severus's scowl seemed to confirm her suspicion, and she let out a teasing laugh.

"I knew it," she said with a note of too much self-confidence, "how funny."

"As amusing as this silly conjecture is for you, I need to interrupt it now and speak to you about something much more serious."

"There's a surprise," she grumbled, staring at the magazine in her lap again.

"Please join me at the dining table," he continued, "I've prepared a meal for you."

Though she might've continued to sulk on the porch just to push his buttons, her hunger trumped her contrariness and she set down the magazine with a sigh. As she shifted to stand up, she was surprised to see a hand offered to her, and she took it suspiciously, wondering at the look on his face which seemed to convey an inhibited apology. If her suspicions about him were accurate, then this Capricorn man was nothing if not a mass of inhibitions, with a remarkably passionate nature hidden beneath all the convoluted restraints, waiting to be unleashed. A secret thrill coursed through her as she considered what it might take to unleash it herself...

"Sandwiches again?" she asked, when she saw the spread he'd laid out on the dining table.

"I can make something else, if you'd like— I thought, in this heat, it wouldn't do to use the oven..."

"Sandwiches are fine, thanks. I'm not really complaining; you've been feeding me better than... well, probably better than I ever have been," she said with a weak smile, sitting down as he pulled out her chair for her.

"What happens when we run out of it, though?" she asked, "How much food do we have?"

Severus darted a sideways glance at her as he took his seat, knowing what she was really asking him.

"We'll be fine," he assured her, "I can get more supplies if need be."

Nina studied him carefully, wondering about the man's many secrets. "You can leave here without a car, I assume?"

"You assume correctly."

Realizing that he wasn't going to elaborate, she decided to let the issue drop— she was too eager to devour her sandwich, anyhow.

"I need to discuss something of importance with you," Severus reminded her after allowing her to finish the first half of her sandwich.

"You said that already," she mumbled around a mouthful of food, already reaching for the second half.

Severus watched her eat, anxious to say what he'd prepared to. Instead, he sighed and sat back in his chair patiently, taking another bite of his own neglected sandwich as he waited for her to finish eating. When she finally had, she sat back in her own chair and took a long sip from her water glass as she looked up at him expectantly. She could tell that he was slightly nervous, and knowing this made her feel a bit on edge. He cleared his throat, and she held her glass to her chest as she waited for him to speak.

"As you now know, I am a wizard. I've been searching for someone— for _Hermione— _for well over a year now..." He paused to look at her then, and when she only returned his look with curiosity, he took another deep breath and continued. "You have large gaps in your memory. You don't know anything of your origins. Don't try to deny it," he insisted when she looked like she was about to argue, "You know this is true; I also know that it makes you uncomfortable to think about, and for that I _am _sorry, but I'm afraid there's no way around it... I have to tell you something now, and I need you to listen to me."

Nina's headache was flaring up again, but she met his eyes regardless, prompting him to go on.

"You're not who you think you are... not really. Your memories have been tampered with. I know this because I know the wizards that did this to you; I know this because... I was there when it happened— or just before it happened, anyway..."

"What are you trying to say?" Nina said quietly, in an icy voice that seemed to penetrate Severus' bones.

"Your name," he started, slowly, "your _real name_, is Hermione... Hermione Granger."

Nina stared at him, somehow expecting him to say that, but still feeling odd about hearing it. It seemed he'd been beating around this bush for days, and was finally confronting her with what he'd been unable to adequately voice before. She knew he'd been mistaking her for this 'Hermione' all along, but now she knew without a doubt that he truly believed she was this person.

"Oh, Severus," she sighed, "you must miss her terribly."

Severus made a strange face, and leaned forward to try again.

"Listen: I'm not the one who's delusional here. You _know _that you can't account for your missing memories— where do you think you were all that time? How have you rationalized such an obvious discrepancy? ...Or has it been rationalized _for you_...? They can do that, you know: fill in the gap with a tidy story that seems to account for everything, but part of you will know that it doesn't. Part of you will never be satisfied, never feel complete. Something will always be missing; something important, something you know you ought to remember but can never get a solid grasp on; something constantly darting around the corners of consciousness, just a shadow trailing behind your wayward thoughts; but it's _there_, waiting for you to find it, waiting for you to draw it out into the light— haven't you noticed it? Doesn't it bother you?"

"_You're_ the only thing bothering me right now," Nina protested, rubbing her aching head with both hands.

"Please," he insisted, moving out of his chair and lowering himself in front of her, taking her hands in his in an effort to get her full attention, "I'm trying to help you! I can fill in those gaps; I know what's missing... most of it, that is... I can tell you who you _really are..._"

"I _know _who I am already, alright?" She objected, trying to pull her hands free, "You've got the wrong person!"

"Calm down," he intoned, "I want to show you something. I have something that belongs to you; something that will help you understand."

He got her attention then, though she was still reluctant to listen to him for reasons she didn't fully comprehend. He rose slowly and let go of one of her hands, tugging on the other in an effort to guide her out of her chair. She hesitated at first, but with a faltering sigh she allowed him to direct her over to the sofa, where she sat opposite him as he conjured a small silver box. She noticed the heaviness with which he opened it and took out a small glass vial with a shimmering liquid swirling around inside, wondering why it would be so difficult for him to impart whatever it was he meant to impart.

"This is a memory," he said in a quiet voice, looking intently at the vial rather than making eye contact with her. "One of yours— that is, one of _Hermione's._ It's really a _set _of memories, each following a... shared theme," he mentioned uncomfortably. "You gave them to me for safe keeping, and now I can return them to you, so that they can serve their purpose."

Despite the strong aversion that part of her felt, her curiosity was too powerful to ignore. She wanted to see these memories, if only to know why they seemed to bother him so much.

"I'll have to allow you into my mind to retrieve them, since they were collected second-hand, and have my own signature attached to them." At her confused look, he continued, "Never mind that; you'll understand once you've seen it all. Your own emotions are contained in them; you'll be able to feel those when you're inside my mind. Are you ready?"

"I guess so," she muttered, staring at the vial as if it were Pandora's box.

With her slight affirmation, he unstoppered the vial and drew out the memory with his wand, directing it into his own temple. She watched in fascination as it disappeared into his head, noticing his eyes flutter as it settled. Those eyes then opened to stare fixedly into hers, and she had little warning before she felt her mind being pulled into his through his dark pupils. The next thing she knew, murky shadows were forming into solid shapes all around her until she found herself standing in some kind of classroom surrounded by young students, each absorbed with some task in front of them involving simmering cauldrons and ghastly-looking ingredients. She recognized Severus there, harshly scrutinizing the work of a young girl with an outrageous head of hair that looked strangely familiar to her... _was Severus a teacher?... _She then felt a variety of emotions break over her, and realized they were coming from that harried-looking young girl. When Severus persisted in badgering the poor dear despite her obvious mortification, Nina decided it was time to step in and intervene on her behalf, only to find herself unable to touch or be heard by him. Apparently she was only a spectator... _how long did she have to stay and watch this? _Her own lack of control over the situation was pressing down on her claustrophobically. Fortunately the scene shifted just as a slight panic began to rise.

Next she was standing in a dark hallway, beside that frizzy-headed girl again. She fixed her eyes on the girl, taking the time to study her face; this time she noticed a stronger resemblance to herself, and could understand why Severus had mistaken her for this girl. _Still, she'd never go out in public with hair like that... _Listening to the girl's interior monologue as she attempted to psych herself up, Nina realized that this girl was not only extraordinarily studious, but painfully self-conscious about it. Nina figured that this "Professor Snape" that the girl was so bent out of shape over must be a real asshole, given how terrified the girl was of approaching him. When at last the girl summoned the courage to enter his office, Nina followed behind and let out a laugh of disbelief when she saw Severus himself behind the desk, looking hilariously intimidating (_and rather handsome, really..._). Her mirth was cut short when Severus began cutting into the girl with a scathing denunciation of her abilities, causing a fully palpable horror to rise in her that pained Nina to have to feel along with her. _That asshole! _She thought, already planning on giving him what-for as soon as she saw him again. As the girl quietly retreated from his office, Nina stared him down one last time, frustrated that he couldn't see her there. Back in the hallway, the girl had broken down in tears. Her humiliation was complete, and Nina couldn't help but notice that there was an element to it that she hadn't caught on to immediately, but that was all too clear to her now: _the girl wanted to impress him._ Something uncomfortable took root in her gut at the thought, but she didn't dwell on it, as the scene had shifted again.

It was just the girl this time, alone in a large, stately room and standing before a tall mirror in a pretty dress with her hair up in a flattering chignon. She was older now, and looking even more like Nina herself... only this girl was so innocent, so _pure_... it almost hurt to look at her, knowing how much Severus cared for her. _Maybe that's what appeals to him, _she thought, considering her difficulty seducing the obstinate man; _maybe he likes them naive... _

Her mounting jealousy was concretized when she was bombarded with the girl's latent fantasy of sweeping in and impressing her dark professor with her youthful beauty, her popularity and her intelligence. Even though she knew it was just empty whimsy on the girl's part, she couldn't help but wonder what Severus had thought of this scene; obviously he'd seen it as well, and was probably seeing it all again along with Nina as he took her through this little tour of another girl's memories. This bothered her in a way she couldn't fully understand; something about this whole situation felt incredibly upsetting, and... _invasive. _She wasn't sure if it was because she herself didn't belong here, or because Severus didn't...

Another shift took her to a new place, surrounded by people she didn't recognize; all except for the girl, who was now looking even more mature... the resemblance to herself was truly uncanny, though Nina still couldn't accept that this girl might actually be _her. How could **she** ever have been this studious, naive little bushy-haired child? _As far as Nina could tell, she had never even been a child; she'd been thrust into adulthood so early on that she couldn't remember a time when she wasn't struggling to survive. _Survival_ was all that she really knew; this girl's concerns were never— _could never have been— _ her own: _what did she care of grades, dances and young boys? _ She came from another world: not a world of children and schoolbooks, magic and pageantry— but from the world of men; of hunger; of endurance and survival. _This girl wouldn't have lasted a day in my world_, she thought as she suppressed a shiver.

Listening in on the girl's thoughts, Nina was annoyed to find her doting on Severus again. It was all too clear that the girl was forming a crush on her broody professor, and Nina did not take kindly to the idea. She was certain that she had more to offer the man than this little swot ever could...

Another shift had her reigning in her aggravation as she found herself in a scene that felt different from the others: this one seemed sharper somehow, and was easier to observe since there were no private thoughts or emotions to sort through. Instead, there was only the girl on a bed, and Severus watching over her. Nina tried not to let the setting bother her, but couldn't ignore the obvious tension in the room between the two of them. Neither could she ignore the way the girl's face had changed since the last episode: she looked more like Nina herself than ever, with something very familiar behind her eyes. Severus was promising to keep her safe, giving her instructions as they prepared to go forward with some kind of plan involving potential memory loss and obvious danger. She noticed that Severus seemed different this time, as well; his teacher's persona was diminished as another took over— one she was better acquainted with. She wondered how many faces the man had...

Just as she was getting caught up in a closer examination of the man, the scene dissolved as her consciousness was gently released. Blinking away the last remnants of the strange experience, Nina found herself back in the familiar house with Severus, who was staring down at her with a guarded, but fearful look that conveyed his uncertainty. He was waiting for her to react, it seemed— _what did he expect from her? _

"So you're her Professor, then?" She asked in a voice that sounded more accusatory than she intended.

Severus flinched, disappointed to find that she was still referring to herself in the third person, and that she seemed to be passing quick judgements against him already.

"I was," he answered quietly.

"Lucky girl..." Nina muttered. Severus didn't know how to interpret the statement; it sounded sarcastic— which wouldn't be surprising, considering how he'd treated Hermione in these memories— but the look on her face was strangely resentful.

"If you say so," he answered.

Nina looked up at him then with an odd look in her eyes, as if she were searching for something she didn't want to find.

"That last memory seemed different..."

"Yes," he replied, "That was my own. I showed it to you so that you'd have a better idea of how things went the way they did."

Nina thought about that for a moment before responding, "You mean, how things changed between the two of you?"

Severus looked perplexed. "I mean," he answered carefully, "how our situation became... complicated. Your memories were lost not long after that night. I thought it might help to recall it."

"Those weren't my memories," Nina countered quietly. Severus just stared at her.

"You saw yourself in them," he began, wondering just how powerful her denial would have to be to ignore the evidence she'd seen. "How can you still think that you're a different person?"

"Because I _am _a different person," she countered more forcefully, "I'm _not_ that girl, and she sure as hell isn't me. I'm sorry to break it to you, but I'm not your little lost _star pupil, _as much as you want me to be... if that's what you want, you're looking in the wrong place."

Severus couldn't ignore the hurt in her voice, wondering whether there was more to her denial than the simple resistance of a memory charm.

"I spoke with her, earlier," Severus tried cautiously, "She... that is, _you, Hermione,_ broke through— the real you— for a little while, but you didn't remember anything... It was you, though: I know you're still in there, somewhere..."

"Stop it."

"I'm not saying it to hurt you, I'm—"

"I know why you're saying it!" She interrupted, "And you can just forget it!"

"Forget what?" He asked in exasperation.

"Forget trying to change me! I'm not going anywhere!" She had tears of frustration forming in her eyes, and was sneering in a failed effort to disguise her pain.

"...I just want to help you, to bring you back..."

"You want to bring _her _back! But I'm _not. her._"

"She's in you, Nina," he said softly, causing her to still as she finally heard him address her by her own name.

She looked at him sadly, wishing her name meant as much to him as the other's did. "If that's true, then the poor girl really is lost, Severus." She watched as a heavy grief clouded his expression once more, and felt a sharp pang of sympathy for the man. He looked so tired, so overwrought. It occurred to her that the sun had set, and after the long day they'd just shared, she expected he must be even more exhausted than she was. Lifting a hand to his face, she soothed down the side of it before gently brushing his hair back and cupping his cheek, watching his eyes close at the contact.

"Get some rest, Severus," she said quietly, "there's nothing more you can do tonight. ...I'll still be here in the morning," she added, watching his face for signs of disappointment. Instead, he opened his eyes and looked at her searchingly then, as if finally noticing her.

"Goodnight, Nina," he whispered.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

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(Interlude)

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Hermione woke with a start, scanning her dark bedroom for the presence she was certain was lurking about somewhere. The night was perfectly still; it was as if there wasn't another soul alive on the whole planet. Despite the calm, she knew in her bones that she wasn't alone.

"I know you're in here," she whispered, "I can _feel you..._"

After a tense silence throughout which she strained her ears to listen over the sound of her own shallow breaths, a voice spoke low from the shadows. "Can you, now?"

She let out a gasp, adjusting her eyes as the tall, imposing figure of Severus Snape stepped forward.

"Professor! It's you!" She managed to say in a harsh whisper.

"...Hermione?" He asked carefully, tentatively stepping closer, "Is that you?"

"Yes! Of course! But what are you doing here? How did you find me?"

"How did I...?" Severus broke off, staring at her with wonder as her question lit up his face. "Do you remember what happened?"

"Oh, Professor," she cried, trying to hold back her emotions as she reached for his hand, pulling him forward to sit at the edge of the bed, "You came back... you really came back... I can't believe it... you finally found me!"

She was sobbing now, fiercely gripping his hand as if letting go would mean losing him all over again. He pulled her to him, and she fell into his embrace with the force and automatic ease of a magnet drawn to an iron substrate. As his arms wrapped around her, she felt a lightness that she hadn't known in ages: his embrace was a homecoming, devoutly longed for. She imagined he felt the same, as a shiver passed over him that resonated against her, igniting a shiver of her own in return. Soon they were both trembling as he rocked her in his arms, absorbing her sobs as if he needed them.

After some time she pulled away to look up at him, cautiously lifting a hand to his face, still barely convinced that he was really there.

"It really is you, isn't it?" She asked in a small voice, "You've really come for me?"

"Yes, I'm here," he replied hoarsely, "I'm so sorry it took me this long. Hermione, I've _been looking for you—_" his words cut off as she placed a hand over his mouth, smiling a little as her watery eyes scanned his face as if it was the dearest thing she'd ever laid eyes on.

"Shhh," she whispered, "I know. It's alright. You don't have to explain, not now. I don't blame you, sir; not for any of it. I'm just so glad you're finally here."

His eyes darted nervously over her face, looking as if he could hardly believe in her forgiveness. She saw such pain in his eyes, but there was the smallest trace of hope in them, as well— she wanted to feed that small hope; to encourage it and gratify it as much as she was able. Before she knew what she was doing, she had lifted herself up and kissed his lips. The kiss was long, soft and gentle: he didn't pull back— he hardly reacted at all— but simply allowed it to flow into him. With that single kiss, she had imparted the greatest exoneration, releasing him from the long, dark night that had held him in purgatory: she was the sun itself, breathing light into his very soul; it was a blessing; it was his redemption.

As she withdrew and looked to him with warm, welcoming eyes, the entire world seemed to slow to a screeching halt. The atmosphere grew dense as the Earth shifted on its axis and started rotating in the opposite direction; tides spilled over the lands as the oceans roiled and earthquakes ripped apart the continents, toppling mountains and tearing the ground wide open; wildfires blazed through the prairies; birds crashed down from the skies; magma rose up and spewed across the Earth in decimating lava flows. He kissed her back.

Pulling her into him again, his lips fed on hers with a hunger he'd never known before; it seemed he wanted to devour her essence, sucking her holy light into himself until it purified every dark crevasse that inhabited his wretched soul. She struggled to keep up with him, overwhelmed by his passion and by the fulfillment promised in his searing kiss. She wanted all of him: all of his need, all of his pain, all of his desperate hunger. She wanted to satisfy every inch of him: to bleed for him joyfully and willingly, if he required blood. Nothing could hurt her now: he could draw every last breath from her body; suffocate her and smother her with his need— she would gladly pay it. She'd forfeit her own life to know that he'd been satisfied. Everything she had was placed in his hands, and, to her, there was no better place. He could take everything.

He was on top of her now, pressing her down into the mattress with his naked flesh; somehow they'd both lost their clothing somewhere along the way... she didn't dwell on it. She didn't want this to stop; didn't want to think about anything other than getting him inside of her. She clung to the strong muscles of his back as he feasted on her neck, writhing beneath him as their bodies struggled to merge. As he pulled away to position himself at her entrance, she grasped his head between her hands and looked at him desperately, willing him to hear what she needed to say. With a breathless whisper, she told him: _"I've been waiting for you."_

* * *

><p>Nina woke with a start, gasping as the dream released her back into the quiet stillness of reality. She was alone in her bedroom— she was sure of it— and yet she still felt that she wasn't <em>truly <em>alone; there was someone else inside of her, sharing the same body. Though she'd been present throughout the dream she'd just woken from, she knew that it wasn't really _her_ dream... those things had come from _Hermione's_ unconscious thoughts— she'd only been pulled along for the ride. The thought scared her, but intrigued her nonetheless.

"I do know you're in here," she whispered to herself, wrapping her arms around her shoulders, "I _can _feel you..."

* * *

><p>.<p> 


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N:_ These are dark times, there is no denying. Our world has perhaps faced no greater threat than it does today. _Due to recent events happening across the site, I'm thinking about relegating any forthcoming 'smutty' parts of this story to separate one-shots: if I do, these will be announced. Anyone wishing to avoid them can just ignore these announcements — (meanwhile I'm trying to tone it down, which I'd rather not_ have to do..._) — I'm getting too paranoid that, otherwise, the story will get taken down before it's told. Many fantastic stories have already been lost in this aggressive crusade of censorship. Dark times, friends...**

**UPDATE: the smut is on; censors be damned! see upcoming A/N's for details.  
><strong>

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Chapter 20

Severus woke to the soft tinkling sound of metal scraping against ceramic. Feeling groggy and overheated, he realized that— somehow— he'd managed to oversleep again. Rolling onto his back and pushing the hair out of his face, he was even more astonished to find that Nina had managed to creep past him again, and was busying herself with some task in the kitchen involving a mixing bowl and a whisk. And she looked... Her hair had been pulled to the side into a loose, messy braid, and she was wearing a pale denim, spaghetti-strapped dress with a brass-buttoned, bustier-style top and a flouncy skirt that landed a couple inches above the knee. The morning sun was shining down through the kitchen window, bathing her hair and skin in warm golden light. Her feet were bare, and for the first time Severus noticed how... adorable... they were. He'd never really noticed another woman's... girl's... feet before...

"Oh! You're awake!" She said, prompting him to lift his gaze back to her face. "I'm sorry if I woke you; I was being so quiet! But I couldn't make the mixing part any quieter..."

Severus just stared at her from across the room, watching the bashful look on her face fade into something more playful. "I didn't want you to wake up until they were ready," she said with a coy smile.

"Until what's ready?" He asked with a broken voice that he hoped was only impaired by residual sleepiness.

"You'll see, it's a surprise." With another coy smile she turned away from him, whisking more vigorously now that she wasn't trying to be discreet.

When she set down the bowl and moved to add butter to the hot pan, she glanced over to find him still watching her, looking rather dazed with his hair mussed across his pillow and one hand scratching absently at his chest. She suppressed a little smile as she pretended not to notice, silently congratulating herself for the outfit she'd chosen. She wasn't much for dresses (especially sweet, girly ones with flouncy skirts), but this particular dress had fit her so well that she'd cast her reservations aside and slipped into it that morning. She loved a good bustier, anyhow, and this one fit delectably: when she saw how flatteringly it framed her décolletage— presenting the milky swells of her breasts ever so tantalizingly, without looking indecent— she got wet just looking at herself. Smoothing her hands over her neck and chest, she'd smiled conspiratorially at her reflection. She could only imagine how Severus would react, when she could hardly keep her own hands off herself. _How could he resist?_

Severus was nervous. Aside from house elves— and, once upon a time, his own mother— no one had ever cooked for him before. Pretty girls in pretty dresses didn't make pancakes for Severus Snape; it just didn't happen. And he was pretty sure she was making pancakes. And she was certainly pretty.

"I'm going to take a shower," Severus mumbled awkwardly, standing up and rubbing his neck. He was still just in his shorts and t-shirt, and felt like she'd caught him off-guard.

"I trust you're too busy to try spying on me again?" He asked as he fetched his towel and headed for the front door.

"Yes; I'm sorry to miss the show," she laughed, "but hurry back! It'll be ready soon!"

Severus nodded, still looking mildly dazed, and feeling irrationally disturbed by her laughter.

* * *

><p>When Severus returned, the smell of pancakes had filled the whole house, and the table had been neatly set. Nina was chopping lemons, and glanced over when she heard the door open.<p>

"You're just in time," she said, beaming at him.

"I'm just going to shave quickly," he muttered, unable to shake his self-consciousness. Nina smiled in response, turning back to her lemons with a look that seemed to say she was on to him. _On to what? _He wondered; he always shaved in the mornings... _what's so special about it now?_

Severus emerged from the bathroom smelling of aftershave and looking rather wary of the kitchen table. Nina had set the lemons on the table beside a small dish of sugar, and poured out some tea as soon as she saw him.

"Sit down!" she said with a laugh when he just stood aimlessly behind his seat, surveying the scene with a troubled expression. He sat down uncomfortably.

Nina set down his tea in front of him with a sweet smile. "You smell nice," she said, smirking, then turned away quickly to fetch the pancakes, which had been placed on a plate in the oven to keep warm.

"Surprise," she said cheerfully, piling some onto his plate before scooping the rest onto her own. She then took her seat and started squeezing lemon juice over her cakes, topping them generously with sugar before slicing into them.

"What are you waiting for?" She asked, when he only watched her curiously. "You do know how to eat pancakes, don't you?"

"Of course I do," he muttered, "I just haven't had them in awhile... it's... quite a surprise."

"But a pleasant one, I hope?" She asked, looking a little self-conscious. _What if he doesn't even like pancakes? _She worried.

Severus looked down at his plate, and sighed. Nina felt her stomach sink.

"Yes," he eventually said, very quietly, "this was thoughtful of you. Thank you."

Nina allowed a slow smile to creep onto her face, though she still noticed that he hadn't started eating. _Maybe he'd been overwhelmed by the gesture? _She wondered how long it had been since someone had done something nice for him.

"Here," she said, cutting a piece from her plate and lifting her fork toward him, "try it..."

He looked up at her as she leaned toward him, unable to avoid glancing at her chest, which was bursting lusciously out of her tight, low-cut top in two perfect, milky mounds that just looked so incredibly _ripe. _His mouth was already watering as he gaped at her, affording her an opportunity to slide her fork into his mouth. Surprised, he closed his mouth around it and met her eyes, which were hooded and watching him intently.

"How do you like it?" She asked in a soft voice, keeping her eyes fixed on his. Severus chewed the bite and swallowed heavily.

"Delicious," he said quietly, watching her smile as she sank back into her chair.

Severus was quiet throughout the rest of the meal, though Nina did notice that he finished his whole plate with particular relish. "Was it enough?" She asked.

"The tea was a bit over-steeped," he started saying, before he caught himself criticizing her. "—Yes, thank you. It was plenty." He looked up at her as she nodded, looking pleased. "You didn't have to do this," he added, still feeling uncomfortable about the situation.

"Oh, I don't mind," she answered. "You're always cooking for me, I just thought I'd return the favor. Besides, I really wanted pancakes this morning."

When she moved to clear the table, Severus stood up and interrupted her. "I'll do that," he said, taking her plate from her.

"I don't mind," she protested, but he held up a hand to silence her.

"Really, I'll clean up," he insisted, "I... like doing it. It clears my head."

Nina raised her eyebrows, wondering if there was any particular reason why he needed to clear his head this morning.

"Alright," she conceded, "I guess I'll take my bath now..."

She lingered as Severus took to clearing the table, not sure what she was waiting for. _He did like it, didn't he? _He seemed to enjoy the meal, though something was definitely off with him. _Maybe he just isn't comfortable with thoughtful gestures,_ she reasoned. Whatever his issue was, at least she was certain he'd liked the dress she'd worn; she'd seen his eyes widen as she'd leaned over the table— she knew that look. He'd liked what he'd seen. All in all, she considered the breakfast a success.

* * *

><p>Severus was reading on the sofa when Nina emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a towel, her hair clipped up to the top of her head. She was trailing little streams of water behind her again, and was walking straight toward Severus with purpose. He lowered his book as his eyes darted anxiously over her, wondering what she was up to. She stopping right in front of him with a huff.<p>

"What have you been using to shave?" she asked, waving a pink razor in the air.

"These are too dull, I hate them!" She exclaimed, pointing to a red streak running down her knee. "Look, I cut myself! Can you fix it?" She asked.

Severus looked up at her suspiciously before summoning his wand. He silently wrapped one hand behind her kneecap, eliciting a small gasp from her as he waved his wand in the other, easily sealing the little cut. As he released her leg, she felt his fingers brush lightly over the skin just above her calf, sending a sharp tingle through her. She swallowed.

"Thanks," she said quietly. He looked up at her with a straight expression.

"I use magic to shave," he said in answer to her earlier question.

"Oh," she answered, still dwelling on the feel of his hand on her damp skin. "...Could you use it on me?"

Severus raised an eyebrow at her impertinence. He knew that he _could_, but he wasn't sure that he wanted to...

"It's more difficult performing the charm on another person," he deflected, "especially when you become accustomed to using it the same way over and over."

"But these razors are awful," she whined, "can you please try it? If it doesn't work, I'll leave you alone."

"Of course it _will work,_" he muttered, "I only said it would be difficult; I'm not so incompetent that I can't perform a depilatory charm effectively..."

"I wasn't implying you were," she huffed, "just do it already."

Severus shot her a glare and twirled his wand, breathing in sharply as he tried not to get angry with her. _She had made him pancakes, after all; this was, perhaps, the least he could do in return..._

"Where." He asked, schooling his features into a mask of irritation.

"My left leg," she answered, "I've already butchered the right one."

Severus looked at the leg she indicated, wondering how to apply the charm from his angle. He'd never shaved a woman's... girl's... legs before. When he shaved his own face, the charm had to be angled _just so_— working from the bottom, up— against the grain, or else it was ineffective. He furrowed his brow as he tried to figure out the best approach. Nina suddenly lifted her leg and placed it across his thighs.

"Like that?" She asked. Severus frowned, both at her impertinence and at his realization that the angle she'd provided wouldn't work.

"No," he growled, shoving her leg off of him and twisting her around before pulling her down into his lap. "Lean back," he ordered, reaching down and lifting her leg toward him as if it were his own. This position afforded him the proper angle, though he really wished it didn't require her to be nestled up against him as she was. She gasped as he ran his wand over the length of her leg, feeling a rough sort of tingle, not unlike a cat's tongue licking at one's skin. He repeated the motion in fluid strokes until he'd covered the whole surface of her leg.

"That was amazing," she said as he finished, reaching a hand behind his neck as she turned to face him, "Want to do my bikini line next?"

Severus' face dropped as a look of near-panic crossed his eyes.

"Alright," she laughed, standing up and securing her towel, "I guess I'm stuck with the razor for that part... but if I cut myself again, I'm coming back for you," she added with a mischievous smile as she turned and sauntered back into the bathroom.

Severus felt the pancakes settle like a lead weight in his stomach.

* * *

><p>Back in the bathtub, Nina mulled over last night's dream as she idly ran her hand across the smooth skin of her leg. Unlike most dreams, she was able to recall the details of this one with startling clarity: she could remember the way his voice had cracked; the feel of his hand as she... <em>Hermione, <em>that is_..._ had held tightly to it; the exact look in his eyes after she'd kissed him... it hadn't been at all like when Nina herself had kissed Severus. If anything, that kiss had left him looking... startled. _Hermione's _kiss had kindled a passion in him that Nina had never encountered before, even in her wildest fantasies; it had utterly transformed the man. _Was such a transformation really possible? _she wondered— maybe Hermione's overly romantic fantasies had spilled over into Nina's dream consciousness, and were misleading her about who the man really was... _It was only a dream, after all... wasn't it?_

Still, she had to admit that she might've underestimated the girl. Everything she knew about Hermione so far had indicated that the girl was rather passive and hopelessly naive— not at all the kind of girl Nina would expect to make a move on her intimidating professor, and the move she'd made in the dream had been pretty bold. When he'd kissed her back, she'd offered herself up _entirely_ to his passion, succumbing to him with a ferocity that Nina had never even experienced. This thought bothered her more than any other; the events of that dream were an entirely new experience for her, affording her a glimpse of something she'd never had, nor ever hoped to have. Her encounters with men had always been rather disappointing, to say the least (most, of course, were downright creepy), so fantasies of mutual passion and sexual reciprocity were rarely, if ever, entertained. _Come to think of it, Severus was probably the first man she'd ever been legitimately attracted to... _a tremor shook her as the thought crossed her mind. _In all her time as a whore, had she never actually enjoyed the company of another man? _If this was true, the implications were staggering... _Why hadn't she realized this before? _

Another tremor shook her, this time more violently, causing her leg to slip off its perch on the edge of the tub. Her head was pounding slightly, but she tried to ignore it. This line of thought was too compelling to let go of. Straightening up, she made an effort to meticulously review the facts, as she understood them.

FACT: she'd been a whore, and had learned a thing or two about how to handle men.

FACT: she didn't know how to handle Severus.

FACT: she actually _liked _Severus, and this surprised her.

FACT: so did Hermione.

FACT: Hermione was somewhere inside of her.

...something was missing. She wasn't sure what it was, but she knew there was a piece to this puzzle— if not _several _pieces— that she needed in order to figure this thing out. She knew she was close: _she was on to something when she was comparing her experience with men to Hermione's, and— (!)_ her thought was interrupted by another tremor. _What did these mean? _There was a clue there, as well— she felt it... but it seemed the harder she tried to focus on it, the harder her head throbbed. Still, she wouldn't let it go: she _needed _to know what it all meant... if she was going to have any chance with Severus at all, she needed to know what she was up against...

She thought about her rival: _Hermione— sweet, virginal Hermione_ (another tremor: _these were almost starting to feel good..._)— _what did that girl have that she didn't? She was so young and pretty, completely oblivious to her own charms... crushing on her big bad professor, secretly wanting the man in ways she knew she could never have him..._

It seemed that more tremors would shake her every time Nina attempted to sexualize the girl in her thoughts, and now she wasn't fighting them anymore. As these thoughts wandered into more lascivious territory, the tremors became more pronounced; Nina welcomed them, starting to enjoy the sensation as she methodically debauched her phantasmic rival, delving into fantasies which placed Hermione in scandalous situations with her dark professor. Even her pounding headache started to spur her arousal; Nina's hand had unconsciously wandered between her thighs, and she slid down the back of the tub as she gave herself over to her steadily rising pleasure. Tremor after tremor threatened to overtake her as she imagined poor Hermione, in way over her head, being taken roughly by the man she'd unconsciously seduced: in this scenario, Severus was a hard, selfish man, who took what he could from her without a second thought. The fantasy was so powerful that Nina became lost in the image, not even aware of her own body anymore as she masturbated frantically. She fixated on the image, driving into it with every aspect of awareness; actualizing it with every thrust of her fingers. Just as she was about to come, everything snapped.

* * *

><p>Severus was in the middle of a particularly insightful paragraph when the image bombarded his mind. He saw Hermione's face contorted with pain as a familiar hand violently gripped her throat... <em>What in Merlin's name was that? <em>Severus shot up as a rough scream rang out from the bathroom, not sparing a moment to consider what had just happened as he rushed forward, wand at the ready: something was wrong — Hermione was in trouble.

The bathroom door flew open to reveal a terrifyingly primed Severus Snape, whose fierce eyes landed immediately on the naked and utterly shocked form of Hermione Granger. Her face was already flushed as the door slammed open, but deepened to a near-crimson as she scrambled to shield herself, eyes wide and mouth gaping wordlessly. Severus' own eyes widened before narrowing in confusion, looking at her as if he was simultaneously startled by and furious with her.

"G-g-get _OUT OF HERE, Professor!" _She stammered, doubled over with her arms crossed tightly around her chest.

Severus swallowed thickly and stepped back with a comically bewildered expression, looking around as if he was suddenly lost.

"AND SHUT THE DOOR!" She demanded in a high-pitched shriek that grated against every one of Severus' thoroughly strung-out nerves. He swiftly complied, turning away from the bathroom and looking out into the living room as his thoughts scrambled for coherency. Though it wasn't even eleven a.m. yet, Severus felt he needed a drink.

* * *

><p>.<p>

**_A/N: There is method in this madness, I promise! _;)**


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

As Hermione sat shivering in the tepid bath water, she waited until she could hear Snape's footsteps receding behind the door before she started to slowly ease out of her protective stance. Though the air was warm enough to evaporate much of the moisture off of her exposed skin as she sat there, she still couldn't stop her body from shivering. She'd just woken up naked in a bathtub with her hand between her legs, and had no sooner taken stock of her strange surroundings than her Potions professor had barged in on her with his wand raised and a formidable expression on his face. So far it was shaping up to be a trying day.

Not that she had any idea what day it was... for the life of her she couldn't recall what she was doing there, or how she'd arrived; the last thing she could remember was breaking into the Department of Mysteries with Harry and the gang, and then... _an accident in the Potions classroom? _...that didn't seem right, but she had the vague sense that something had gone wrong, and Professor Snape had been there...

_Oh God, Professor Snape— _he was out there right now, waiting for her. Her gut twisted with the idea of facing him after what had just happened. She needed him to explain what was going on, but for the moment she wanted to remain ignorant rather than having to occupy the same room with him (let alone the same _country_, for that matter). He'd seen more of her body than even her own mother had the privilege of seeing, these days... _speaking of which..._

Looking down to evaluate what had just been bared before him, Hermione took the time to study her own body, amazed at the changes she discovered. She hardly recognized her own breasts, which seemed to have developed a surprising plumpness overnight; though they hadn't been under-developed before, now they seemed to have grown more fully into their shape, looking firm and rounded in all the right places. She couldn't stop herself from groping them tentatively, surprised when a small, rosy nipple sprang to life under her touch— _they hadn't been that sensitive before, either..._

As her attention moved downwards, she marveled at the subtly defined musculature of her legs, squeezing a thigh and finding it remarkably solid. Then, just above the thigh... _when had she started shaving down there? _— _someone_ had been maintaining the mess of curls between her legs, keeping the patch of hair neat and trimmed, with all of the lower hairs shaved away completely. She wondered why she'd bothered; it wasn't as if anyone besides herself saw what was going on down there... _right?_

A little tremor shot through her as she contemplated the wild idea that she had a secret sex life that she didn't know about, and she pushed aside the distressing thought to try and regain some critical focus. Obviously there were gaps in her memory; perhaps someone had obliviated her, and she was just readjusting from the spell. Surely these memories would resurface in time— she just needed to calm down and figure this out. With some reluctance, she realized that she needed Snape's help.

If Hermione hadn't been prepared for what she'd seen in the tub, she certainly wasn't ready for what she saw when she stepped out and stood in front of the mirror. With shaking hands she reached up and released the clasp pinning her hair to the top of her head, gasping as it fell down around her shoulders in thick, soft waves. The color seemed different than before; it must've been charmed a few shades lighter, achieving a rich honey brown that dramatized the auburn of her irises and contrasted expertly with her dark brows, lending her eyes a certain depth that she could hardly look away from. Most astonishing, though, was the texture: she'd never seen her hair so sleek and tame (though even 'tame' seemed the wrong word, since it was still thick and wild as ever— only now, this look suited her— even looked intentional...). Whatever had been done to it had been done by a very skilled beautician; this clearly was no ordinary wand work.

Looking around the small space, Hermione tried to locate her clothing. All she could come up with was a small denim dress that had been draped over the towel rack, which couldn't have been hers; as pretty as it was, she'd never wear such a thing. The top was much too revealing, and the skirt was rather shorter than she was comfortable with given the fact that she couldn't locate any undergarments. Her only other option was a silky floral robe which she found hung on the back of the door, the thin fabric of which did little to hide her pebbled nipples. Ultimately she opted to wear the dress underneath the robe, despite the clashing styles and the unfortunate bulkiness of this look.

After fussing in front of the mirror for a little while longer (truthfully she was stalling from the inevitable confrontation, but she figured she might as well make herself as presentable as possible while doing so), she eventually summoned the courage to open the bathroom door. She found the room outside empty, and tentatively stepped out to look around; one hand clung to the neckline of the robe, clutching it tightly closed. The room seemed oddly familiar, though she couldn't place where she might've seen it before. She slowly crept out into the open space, somehow feeling as if she were trespassing. The area looked well lived in, with bedding folded up on the sofa and the lingering smell of breakfast in the air. _Was this where Professor Snape lived? _Surely not— it didn't seem at all like the kind of place she'd imagine him living in... in fact, there were far too many Muggle trappings for this to be a wizard's home. She noticed the heaping stack of pornographic magazines on the floor, sparing them a shocked glance before averting her eyes. If this _was _Snape's home, then he wasn't at all the kind of person she'd taken him for...

Then she noticed the view from the kitchen window, and pushed all other thoughts aside as she realized she was out in the middle of nowhere. For miles and miles, blank red earth stretched as far as the eye could see, scattered sparsely by trees and low shrubs, and broken only by the occasional mesa. It looked like the Australian Outback, from what she'd seen of it in some old travel pictures in her parents' photo album. _What would she be doing out here, with Professor Snape?_

Wanting to get a better look, she headed for the front door, finding it open. She gasped as she stepped out to find Snape on the far end of the porch, sitting stiffly with a cup in his hand. He was facing her as if he'd been waiting for her, and for the life of her she couldn't identify the look on his face. She schooled her own into a look of indignation, though she wasn't particularly upset with him; she just felt she needed to be on the offensive. As they continued to stare at each other, her increasing nervousness prompted her to speak first.

"I couldn't find any underwear," she blurted out, though it wasn't the first thing she meant to say to him (_or to say at all, really_). She blushed at Snape's perplexed reaction, and quickly attempted to direct his attention away from the fact that she wasn't wearing underwear. "Where are my clothes?"

Snape's confused expression deepened into one resembling impatience— though if that were the case, he seemed to be struggling to keep it in check.

"I would've thought your primary concern would've been more practical," he murmured, "for instance: don't you want to know where you are?"

Hermione tried not to let her embarrassment show, but it was no use. She tried to cover it with exasperation. "I figured we're somewhere in the Australian Outback," she replied in her no-nonsense, student voice, looking to him to confirm her deduction. When he only narrowed his eyes slightly, she continued, "Well? Am I right?"

"That's correct," he muttered.

Hermione nodded, looking out over the horizon as if there were answers to be found out there. When she found none, she turned to Snape again.

"Professor... what are we doing out here? Have I been obliterated?" she added in a smaller voice. The idea of someone tinkering with her mind was not one that she was at all comfortable with, no matter what the reasons. She only hoped they were justifiable.

"Yes," he answered in a voice as small as hers, "You were." Though Severus had been hoping to speak with Hermione again ever since Nina had taken over, he found himself at a loss of what to say to her now that she was back.

"I don't remember... well, anything, really... not since—" Hermione broke off her sentence, afraid to mention the break in at the Department of Mysteries to her professor. She was unaware that they'd already had this conversation— or at least one closely approximating it— in the living room yesterday.

"Since the Department of Mysteries?" Snape answered for her. _Well, that settles that matter,_ she thought.

"Yes," she replied, "though even that memory seems a bit off. I'm having trouble recalling the details, but I remember it involved a lot of running... and danger, of course... then... I think some Death Eaters showed up." When Snape only nodded solemnly in response, she felt her blood run cold. "Oh, God— I was captured, wasn't I?"

"Yes," he confirmed, "By Dolohov. You were taken to the Dark Lord's headquarters."

Hermione nodded absently, her head swimming with the implications.

"What about Harry, is he alright? And Ron?" she asked with rising desperation, terrified that she might've been the sole survivor of the ordeal.

Snape looked irritated, but answered nonetheless. "They're fine," he answered shortly, "you were the only prisoner." Her relief was plain enough, though Snape knew all too well that she hadn't heard the worst of it yet. Wanting to delay that disclosure as much as possible, he unthinkingly told her a piece of news to distract her.

"Sirius Black is dead."

Hermione went very pale then and swallowed visibly, the pain in her eyes making him instantly regret telling her that detail.

"Oh no," she whispered, "no... not Sirius..."

"By Bellatrix Lestrange," he added quietly.

Hermione sat down carefully, leaning into a support beam to offset the heaviness that had descended upon her. It took her some time before she was able to speak.

"After all those years in Azkaban," she whispered harshly, tears blurring her vision, "that's so unfair..."

Severus decided not to interrupt, leaving her to mourn as he looked back out into the distance, taking another sip from his cup. If she had noticed the sharp smell of the custom-brewed spirit he was drinking, she didn't show it. He wasn't sure if he should leave her alone, but hoped that his presence— however distant— might offer some small comfort. He didn't think she'd take the news so hard; she'd barely known the man, as far as he understood it. Not like Severus himself had known him, to be sure. Despite his own heated animosity for the man during his lifetime, the news of his untimely demise had been particularly unsatisfying when Severus heard of it. At the time he'd been overwhelmed with the responsibility of rescuing Hermione, and had pushed aside his own feelings on the matter to focus on what needed to be done. Now, given an opportunity to reflect on it, he found himself unnervingly disheartened by the loss. Though he had no reason to feel sorry for the bastard, he couldn't help but recognize the tragedy of it all.

"Harry had only just found him; they'd had so little time together," Hermione continued, barely audible even in the quiet stillness. "But he was so happy to have a real family again, even if it was just each other. They both were."

Severus kept quiet, not trusting himself not to sound unkind where Potter and Black were concerned. After a while, Hermione spoke up.

"Professor, he didn't... I mean, how did it happen? He wasn't trying to _help_ _me, _was he?"

Severus looked up and saw the guilt and fear that marred her features, and held her gaze as he answered.

"No, Miss Granger. As I understand it, you'd already been taken by then. No one had even realized as much until it was too late."

Hermione nodded, her lip quivering despite her relief as she willed herself not to cry. Her will wasn't strong enough, though, given all the additional stress she'd found herself under, and before she could help it she was breaking down in heavy sobs. Severus looked up in alarm.

"I told you it wasn't your fault," he assured her, not expecting this reaction from her. She only nodded in understanding, but her sobs wouldn't abate. At a loss, Severus rose to his feet. "Is there anything I can do?" he asked helplessly, unprepared to comfort a sobbing girl.

"I'm sorry," she cried, "just give me a m-moment," she replied, turning her splotchy face away from him.

"Would you like some tea?" he offered, wanting an excuse to flee the porch.

"Yes, please," she gasped between shuddering sobs, "that'd be l-lovely." She broke down harder then, collapsing into her lap as grief wracked her body. Severus hurried inside, pausing to pick up a box of tissues, which he went back and placed gently beside her before retreating into the house. He stilled in the kitchen as a pang of grief gripped his own heart, breathing deeply as he allowed it to subside. He set about making the tea in a kind of daze, unable to completely focus on his task.

By the time he returned to the porch, Hermione had stopped crying and was sitting upright again beside a pile of tissues. She was staring resolutely at the ground, hardly noticing as Severus set a cup beside her. He decided to sit on the raised ledge of the doorway in the shade behind her as he drank his own tea thoughtfully.

"Oh, thank you," she said as she took notice of her tea cup, then paused as she moved to take a sip.

"Is something wrong?" He asked, seeing the look of displeasure cross her face.

"Oh, um... it's just that, I don't really like milky tea," she answered uncomfortably, "I'm sorry, I should've mentioned it..."

"You don't?" Severus said with some surprise, knowing how Nina took hers with plenty of milk and sugar.

"No," she replied tentatively, wondering why it should surprise him so, "I'm more of a straight-with-lemon sort of girl... though I appreciate the effort," she added with awkwardness.

"I'll fix you another," he said distractedly, pulling out his wand to vanish the contents of her cup as well as the mess of tissues beside her.

"You don't need to bother," she protested, feeling like a nuisance.

"It's no trouble," he insisted in his distinctive, deep voice, taking up her empty cup and disappearing back into the house. He soon returned with a fresh cup of tea and a slice of lemon, which she took appreciatively. As he sat back down on his stoop, he wondered what other differences might exist between the two personalities.

"Do you like pancakes?" He found himself asking.

Hermione felt taken aback by the apparent non sequitur. "Um, yes... they're alright, I guess... why?"

"No reason," Severus muttered, embarrassed for asking. They both sipped silently at their tea as they let the strange question pass.

"I like them best with blueberry preserves," Hermione was compelled to say, trying to alleviate the awkwardness of the moment. "My grandmother used to make them and jar them. She'd send jars to us every year from her home in Quebec; my dad would hoard them. He had a whole shelf full of the stuff. They've dwindled since she passed, but there were still a few jars left last time I was home."

Severus nodded, not looking at all interested. Hermione wondered why he'd even bothered asking... _so much for small talk_.

Realizing she'd been sidetracked by the news of Sirius' death, she tried to get back into her earlier mindset. She still had plenty of questions that she needed Snape to answer.

"What did Voldemort do to me?"

Severus reeled back when he heard her speak Voldemort's name.

"_Don't use that name!" _he hissed, spilling his tea as he reflexively moved to cover his arm.

Hermione's eyes widened, recognizing for the first time what had somehow managed to evade her notice: _he wore the Dark Mark!_

"Oh my God, you're a Death Eater!" she gasped, jumping up and backing away as the knowledge that she'd been drinking tea and discussing blueberry preserves with a Death Eater tried to reconcile itself with her higher reasoning. "...how...?"

"It's more complicated than that," he snapped back at her, frustrated that he hadn't thought to conceal the mark from her. "I assure you that you're perfectly safe here, so long as you _don't use that name_ in my presence again!"

"But... but..." she stammered, still unable to come to terms with the fact that her favorite teacher was a servant of the Dark Lord. _But then why did Dumbledore trust him? He was an Order member after all, wasn't he?_

"Are you a spy?" She asked, aware of her tactlessness but too stunned to be concerned.

Severus paused, still paranoid about maintaining his cover despite the fact that Hermione—some part of her, at least—already knew his secret.

"As I said, it's complicated, but my true allegiance is to Dumbledore." When she only looked at him searchingly, he continued, "I realize you have no reason to trust me, given what little information you have, but it is important that I have your trust; you are here because it's safe, and because I want to help you reclaim your stolen memories, and restore your magic."

That last point hit Hermione hard, as she hadn't realized her magic had been compromised as well. She'd assumed he'd taken her wand for safe keeping.

"What's wrong with my magic?" she asked in a small voice, "What did he do to me?"

"It wasn't..." Severus had a difficult time answering her second question. "The Dark Lord didn't do this to you; not directly, at least. Though he did order it..." he was about to say that it had been Voldemort's plan, but he knew all too well that that wasn't the case.

Sensing his distress, Hermione felt the need to step in.

"What are you trying to tell me, Professor?" she asked in a gentle voice.

Severus met her eyes, and the emotion contained there caused her breath to hitch. Whatever had happened, clearly he was upset about it.

"Shall we start at the beginning?" She offered, taking a slight step toward him.

"I suppose we might as well," he conceded, sounding pathetically tired.

"What happened after I was taken by Dolohov?" she asked, carefully retaking her seat opposite him on the porch. She failed to notice how easily she accepted his bid for her trust, automatically gravitating back toward him.

"You were imprisoned. When Malfoy got word of it, he jumped at the opportunity to take credit for your capture. His failure to retrieve the prophecy didn't go over well, to say the least."

Hermione relaxed a little at hearing this, having forgotten about the prophecy.

"He was in a foul temper, and he took it out on you before he brought you before the Dark Lord. I was able to heal most of your injuries later, but when I first saw you, you were in bad condition. I hadn't known you'd been captured, or I might've been able to intervene on your behalf..."

Hermione could see he was sincere, so she nodded her thanks, for whatever it was worth.

"The Dark Lord intended to kill you in order to hurt Potter, but I offered... an alternative."

When he seemed unable to go on, Hermione tensed.

"You must know that the circumstances were dire, and I was completely unprepared to see you there. I had to come up with something— anything— very quickly, or else stand by and watch as you were executed. It wouldn't have been quick, either... the Dark Lord was determined to see to it that—" he broke off then, aware of the gruesomeness he was about to convey, and noticing the fear he'd provoked in her.

"I apologize, but these facts aren't at all pretty. There's no easy way to say any of this, so I'm trying to put it simply..."

"It's alright," she croaked, ashamed at the unexpected harshness of her voice. "Please go on," she managed in a smoother tone.

"He wanted to see that you suffered terribly. I wasn't about to stand by and allow you to be killed. So I came up with the only solution that occurred to me, which I never even meant to allow to pass. I'd hoped to stall long enough to alert the Order and arrange for you to be safely returned, and had managed to put together a quick plan that would've ensured just that, but... it went wrong. It went horribly wrong."

His voice had cracked on his last words, prompting a surge of sympathy from the confused girl across from him. She wanted to reach out to him, but felt frozen in place. _What had gone so wrong that he'd be this remorseful? _she wondered; she was, after all, _alive..._ he must've done _something _right...

"But I'm here now," she said simply, "and perfectly safe, as far as I can tell..."

Severus just hung his head, avoiding her worried gaze.

"I suggested that you be given over to the underground slave trade, Miss Granger," he continued in a gravelly voice, "to have your memories wiped as you were made to endure unspeakable treatment from some of the most despicable criminals known to wizardkind. I never intended for this to actually happen, you must understand— I thought I could get you away in time..."

Hermione's head was aching terribly at this revelation, and nausea had gripped her stomach. Still, she tried to override her discomfort to attempt to understand.

"I believe you," she offered miserably, "but I don't understand; what happened to me? How did I end up here?"

"I don't know much of what happened to you after I lost you, and it wouldn't do to speculate on that account. I'm certain what you endured afterwards was... unpleasant." Severus was fully aware of the inadequacy of that adjective, but couldn't bear to be any more descriptive at the moment.

"Suffice it to say that I eventually managed to recover you, albeit well over a year too late. Which brings us here, now."

Though she'd suspected that she had lost a large portion of time, given the changes she'd discovered in the bathroom, this revelation still hit her like a bludger to the chest.

"An entire _year?" _She whispered, her head pounding with the ramifications.

"That would explain..." she trailed away, unconsciously glancing over her body as she tried to make sense of it all.

"But that means I missed an entire year of school..." she muttered absently, looking completely derelict.

"...How am I going to pass my N.E.W.T.s...?"

Severus looked up at her incomprehensively, flabbergasted that this should be her greatest concern at the moment.

"Miss Granger... I assure you that every consideration will be granted to you, should you wish to continue your academic career once you're returned—"

"Should I _wish _to?" She retorted, not disguising her affront, "Of course I'll want to go back to school, why wouldn't I?" She demanded.

"I meant no offense," Severus replied, simultaneously amused by her indignation and saddened by the possibility that her feelings might change once she knew the full story. "My point is, help will always be given to you at Hogwarts. I'm confident that the rest of the staff share this view, and will be more than willing to assist you. You have nothing to fear in that regard."

"But my magic..." she continued, realizing there was one regard she'd overlooked. "If I've lost my magic, there would be no point..."

"I don't believe your magic has been lost; not completely at least," Severus assured her, "I think it's only been relegated to a part of you that we've yet to unlock."

"But I don't feel any different," she protested, "—where's my wand? Are you sure my magic has been compromised?"

In fact, Severus was _not_ sure; he realized that only Nina had been unable to perform magic— perhaps Hermione would have no trouble...

"You'll need a new wand, I'm afraid; but if you'll limit yourself to a simple spell, you may use my own to test your abilities."

To Hermione's great astonishment, Snape produced his wand and held it out to her freely. She never would've expected him to do so lightly.

"Thank you, sir," she said in a hushed voice, carefully taking the proffered wand from him and settling it in her grip. It felt unique; it fit well in her palm, if not surprisingly heavy, and she could immediately feel the swell of powerful magic emanating from its core. It pulsed over her almost soothingly, creeping up her arm and spreading over her chest as it seemed to seek out her heart, attuning itself to the pulsating rhythm it found there.

"I can feel it," she whispered, "it's almost as if it wants to know me..."

Severus raised an eyebrow, surprised that she could feel it at all. "_Where_ can you feel it, Miss Granger?" He asked carefully.

"I... I think I can feel it in my heart, sir," she answered quietly.

He was stunned by her reply; indeed, that was how his own magic responded to his wand. It was grounded in the heart, connected to his own life force through a distinct process of perfect harmonization with his instrument. Though this was the case for most wizards in one way or another, that she should feel it herself— in her own heart, no less— was no small thing. Many wizards reported a generalized harmonization; many others reported a particular synchronization with specific locations of the body, most often the head; sometimes the _hara, _or stomach, for those ruled by instinct; in many cases the power center was located in the groin... but she felt _his _wand magic responding to her own heart...

"Try performing a spell, Miss Granger," he prompted, curious to see what might happen.

Eager to test it, she unthinkingly pointed at a nearby bush and invoked "_Incendio!"_

Her eyes went wide as the bush burst into flames, lighting up like an overdone Christmas tree and hissing angrily as thick black smoke curled up and rose straight into the sky. Severus gaped at the sight for a moment before snatching the wand from her hand and casting a strong _Aguamenti _counter-charm to dampen the flames. When the fire had been extinguished, they both stared wordlessly at the charred, muddy mess that remained.

"Well, that answers that question," Hermione said nervously.

"Indeed," Severus replied, too astonished to be irritated with her for performing such a careless spell in a dry area. If he'd been surprised that she'd been able to use magic now, he felt more so that she'd been able to do it with such ease while using his wand.

"Why did you think my magic had been compromised?" She asked.

"Because it is," he answered absently, still staring at the charred remains of the bush. "Part of you is missing it."

She wondered at that for a moment. "_Part of me?_" she questioned, "What 'part' are you talking about?"

Severus turned to her then, looking her over as if imagining her another way. She shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, wondering what he was seeing with such distant eyes. Those eyes then landed on hers, and looked into them deeply as he spoke directly to her.

"There's still plenty you don't know about," he told her solemnly.

"Like what?" She asked softly, afraid of the intensity he was radiating.

She watched him stiffen, his lips tight and looking as if he wanted to tell her something, but wasn't sure how to.

"You suffered some... complications... during your fugue. These have left you in a precarious situation that I'm trying to help resolve. I'm still uncertain as to what caused the situation, as well as to the extent of the damage; there are possibly several factors involved. I've been researching the matter as much as I could in the short time I've had to look into it, but I haven't made any decent headway— the available knowledge of these matters is _negligible_ in the Wizarding World, and I don't have convenient access to any Muggle source material... though even if I did, I'm not entirely sure where I'd have to begin..." Realizing that he was practically rambling now, he trailed off to seek out the shade of the porch that he'd been out of for too long.

"What 'situation,' — what are you trying to tell me?" She demanded as he turned away from her. Though she didn't mean to be so short with him, her headache was wearing on her patience.

Severus sighed heavily as he took his seat in the cool doorway. He belatedly noticed his spilled tea on the floor, and frowned at it as he thought about how to tell her what she wanted to know.

"I believe something went wrong with your obliviation; I couldn't say yet what that might've been, but suffice it to say that there have been some psychological ramifications that have rendered you... _disjointed_."

"_Disjointed? _Disjointed how?"

"Miss Granger... sometimes you are here, and sometimes you are somewhere else. When you are here, you don't remember what happened when you _weren't._ When you are somewhere else, some_one _else takes over... that is, you become.. someone else."

It took her a moment to hear what he was saying over the pounding in her head. When she finally responded, it was in a small, flat voice. "I become someone else."

He nodded, looking wary and a little bit guilty.

"Who do I become?" She asked in her diminished voice.

Severus looked distinctly uncomfortable. "Someone you were forced to become when you were taken and obliterated; possibly someone programmed with false memories. She doesn't know who you are, apart from what I've told her, and from what she's seen in the memories I've shown her."

"_She?" _It was strange to hear him talking about her as if she was a separate person.

"Yes, well, _you, _but you as _her..._"

"This sounds rather complicated."

"Indeed."

"And 'she' doesn't know she's me?"

"I've tried to tell her, but I'm not sure how well she understands."

"But 'she' is just _me_, right— but 'me' when I don't remember who I am?"

"It's more complicated than that..."

"How?"

"She... isn't _you, _really... she's... different."

"Different, how?"

Severus paused then before answering, realizing that there were many ways he could word it that might not go over well.

"She calls herself 'Nina,' for one thing..."

"Nina..." Hermione looked thoughtful for a moment. "Jane used to call me that..."

"Who?"

"My childhood friend, Jane; she was a Muggle girl I used to know— since we were toddlers, practically— and she never could pronounce my name correctly... she used to say 'Herma-nina' instead, and then that got shortened to just 'Nina'... I haven't thought about her in ages."

Severus wondered at that; it might've just been a coincidence, but there was a chance that Nina had chosen the name unconsciously from one of those early memories.

"But that's understandable," Hermione argued, "—if it's just me when I'm amnesic, it would make sense that I'd call myself something that I identify with my childhood, right? It just sounds like I'm slipping in and out of amnesia, Professor."

"There's more to it than that," he said shortly, wishing she didn't require these details. "'Nina' is not like you. She acts differently, talks differently... dresses differently," he mentioned, looking over her strange outfit and wondering how she wasn't getting overheated standing around with that robe pulled over her dress. "She even takes her tea differently," he added.

Hermione absorbed this information, astounded by the implications. _How could she be two people at once? Where did this other personality come from?_

"She's been shaped by experiences you can't remember," he continued, a note of sadness coloring his voice. "She's from another kind of world; a darker, less friendly world. She hasn't... that is, _you_ haven't," he corrected miserably, "had an easy time during the last year. She's accepted it all as a given, not realizing that she came from somewhere better, and had people looking for her who cared about her and wanted to take her away from all of that. It's made her... different."

Snape looked so remorseful that she didn't want to make him explain further, though she was still aching to know everything about this alter ego.

"It's alright, Professor— you don't have to feel guilty about what happened; I'm sure you did all you could... I'm just glad to be alive, and wouldn't be if it weren't for you..."

Severus looked at her as if he didn't understand a word of what she'd said to him.

"Some things are unforgivable, Miss Granger. You've suffered depravities that no one should ever have to endure, especially one so..." Hermione looked wistful as he spoke to her in that forlorn way of his, her eyes searching his as he grimaced against an unknown torment. "...What was done to you should never have been done, and I was the one who allowed you to be placed in that position. You don't even know what it is you so easily forgive."

Hermione realized her weak assurances were wasted on him; he clearly felt responsible for whatever it was that she didn't know. And from the tone of his voice, she wasn't sure that she wanted to.

.

_**A/N: More to follow soon— just trying to break this up a little.**_

_**Also— thanks to the reviewer who suggested posting this story to another site, in case it gets removed: I'll be doing that to be safe, so stay tuned for that info. — I welcome suggestions as to which alternate fanfic sites to check out (I prefer the aesthetic of this site: if you know of any that's as easy on the eyes / as easy to use, let me know!)  
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	22. Chapter 22

_**A/N: So, this took longer than I expected (had to rewrite some parts)... thanks for your patience. BUT! Now I've set up an alternate site for this story, in case anything happens to it here: you can find it at AdultFanFiction, under the same title and pen-name. Only the first chapter has been posted there so far; updates will likely be slow, if at all — but should anything happen, everything will get moved there (so you might want to bookmark it just in case). Hope that works for you guys! Thanks a lot for all your helpful suggestions!**_

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Chapter 22

Hermione watched as her professor set about preparing a small lunch for the two of them, after having talked with one another well into the afternoon. She suspected that he wasn't really that hungry, but had used the opportunity as an excuse to escape her increasingly direct line of questioning. She took note of that, intending to remind herself to try to be a bit more circumspect next time she wanted answers that he wasn't eager to provide. Though she realized she was poorly matched against the Slytherin Head of House when it came to the art of subtle interrogation, she was determined enough to make a go of it nonetheless. Besides, he seemed more than a little off his game around her — though it made her sorry to consider the potential cause of this perceived weakness, maybe there was advantage in it.

Her head was still swimming with so many unanswered questions. _Why wouldn't he tell her about his latest communications with the Order? _When she'd inquired after whether he'd informed them that she was alive and well— hoping the news would be passed on to her poor parents— he'd gotten rather evasive, telling her that his communications with Dumbledore were none of her business. When she'd protested that, in this case, such communications were very much indeed 'her business,' he'd simply assured her that all would be known to her in time, at _the right time,_ and insisted that she drop the matter to focus on her immediate situation. He'd been just as shifty when she'd inquired about his relationship with Voldemort, wondering if there was any chance he'd be summoned while he was with her. That line of inquiry had been thoroughly quashed, and she resolved not to mention anything related to his role as a Death Eater again... at least for awhile, anyway.

And then there was 'Nina.' _How did she act around him when she thought she was this other person? Why didn't he want to tell her about it? _She suspected that 'Nina' was a bit of a tart, given the few clues he'd dropped about her behavior. She also suspected that 'Nina' made Professor Snape rather uncomfortable, and that he was somewhat relieved to be out of her company. Hermione didn't mean to make a pest of herself, sensing that the man needed a break from her inquisitiveness, but she hated being in the dark about something so momentous. One way or another, she wanted to get to know this 'Nina.'

Severus was biding his time. Though Nina was no less exhausting, Hermione had thoroughly worn down his patience in the short time she'd been back, her persistent questioning having managed to drive him to a second (and presently a third) serving of his rather potent home-brewed spirit. He wasn't normally one to indulge in drink so liberally— especially so early in the day— but little by little, his reserves were being worn away by the increasingly ludicrous circumstances he was being forced into. _What man __**wouldn't **__be driven to drink in his situation? _Several hours ago he'd been in the company of a right little trollop, who had served him pancakes in a fine parody of domesticity, flaunting her [_admittedly stunning_] assets before beguiling him into _shaving_ her (_of all improprieties! how did she pull that off?_). The remarkable intimacy of the act had only dawned on Severus after she'd sauntered away, leaving him feeling rather discomfited as he sat and waited for her to reemerge. Try as he might, he couldn't suppress the memory of how warm and soft her damp skin had felt under his touch, nor the way she had nestled into his lap as if it were her rightful place. He'd barely managed to stop dwelling on it when that strange vision had broken through to him (_what was that, anyway?_), followed by the alarming return of Miss Hermione Granger herself— albeit the Miss Granger that _was_: seemingly trapped in a state of arrested development, unable to reconcile her sixteen-year-old self with what happened to her. And thus he'd gone from would-be illicit paramour to stern Professor in a heartbeat, the quick-change enough to give anyone whiplash.

What's more: he was running out of ideas. Though he knew that he had carried Hermione's memories far too long for the memory reversal to be as straightforward as he had anticipated, he'd still imagined that they would be enough to undermine Nina's self belief, causing that identity to crumble. He'd been dismayed and astonished when Nina had simply dismissed them, not expecting her to be that strong— he'd surely underestimated her. Severus realized that he was out of his own depth trying to fix the mess that had become of Hermione's psyche, but it was still _his mess_, as far as he was concerned: he'd done this to her, and he aimed to fix it. It was too late now to seek help elsewhere, if such help could even be found. Either he fixed this himself, or he'd have to abandon her to the care of those who had been too distracted to even make a concerted effort to locate her. He _couldn't _return her to them, broken as she was... he _wouldn't. _He'd gotten himself into this mess in order to save her, and he'd be damned if he was going to give up without a fight.

"Do you need any help in there?" Hermione asked, breaking Snape out of his intense reverie. He turned toward her with confusion, looking at her as if she were a reminder of something he longed to forget.

"It smells like you're burning whatever that is you're cooking..." she said, carefully approaching to peer into the neglected pan. She furrowed her brows when she saw the blackened remains of what had once been bacon strips, and looked up at her professor with an inquiring gaze. He frowned and vanished the mess, shooting her a look that dared her to comment before turning to heap some egg salad onto sliced bread. There would be no bacon on these sandwiches.

Hermione bit her lip and retreated to the living room, watching him surreptitiously from behind the book on local wildlife that she'd found on the side table. She hadn't been able to concentrate on anything other than the chaotic thoughts that had consumed her for the last several hours, but just holding a book helped ground her a little bit. Now, her mind was consumed by one thought only: _she was about to lunch with Professor Snape! He was making her a sandwich! _The thought made her irrationally giddy. It was only a sandwich, after all. But the fact that he was making it with his own hands made her stomach flip with a new kind of excitement.

She rose to meet him at the table when she saw him set the sandwiches down, smiling shyly at him when he looked to her in silent welcome. She had noticed the way he stood by and waited for her to be seated before taking his own seat, and was easily charmed by his manners. Though she realized they probably came automatically to him rather than out of an effort to impress her, she was impressed nonetheless. She couldn't imagine Ron ever putting consideration towards her before his lunch.

Snape had only taken a few slow bites of his food before he seemed to abandon the idea altogether, sitting back and glancing at Hermione occasionally as he steepled his fingers in concentration. His quiet scrutiny was spoiling Hermione's appetite. After forcing herself to take a few more bites so as not to appear ungrateful, she pushed her own plate aside and looked up at him nervously. There was something unfamiliar in his expression— a look she'd never seen on him before— and it made her avert her gaze in the hope that it would pass.

Severus frowned, recognizing her discomfort. _Had he been leering at her? _He looked guiltily at his half-empty cup, torn between the impulse to drain the last of it or vanish it before he allowed himself to get too comfortable. _Maybe he should've eaten more..._

"Shall I clear the table, sir?" Hermione suddenly asked, wanting to break the silence. She stood up hesitantly.

"Stay where you are, Miss Granger."

Severus' response came low and dangerous, giving Hermione the odd feeling of being in trouble. She sat down again carefully, keeping one hand on the table as if ready to rise again as soon as she was excused.

As he watched her retake her seat, Severus unconsciously took another sip from his ubiquitous cup. Hermione's gaze darted erratically between him and the table.

"You seem eager to leave, Miss Granger," he noted quietly, "—aren't you going to assail me with more of your questions now that you've recharged?"

Hermione looked up at him questioningly, wondering if that was an invitation or not.

"Well, sir— I _have_ been wondering about this other personality..."

"Of course you have," Snape muttered. Hermione decided to interpret that as permission to continue.

"Yes, well, I thought that maybe if you could tell me what happens when I'm... like that... then I might start remembering things."

"I don't see how that would help."

"Well, surely whatever happens when I'm... away... gets stored somewhere in my memories, I just can't access them yet when I'm myself again; but if I _could _find a way of accessing them, then maybe I'll start to understand that side of my personality better, and can start... _merging _with it, or something. Then I might be able to get my memories back."

Snape gave her a withering look before replying. "I'm sure it's not that simple. Neither you, nor _Nina_, recall anything between the time you were taken by Dolohov and the time you were obliviated. I'm not even sure how much Nina actually recalls at all, beyond the last year or so. She seems to think she's been doing it all her life..."

"Doing _what_?" Hermione asked, intently curious. Snape looked at her pointedly before changing the subject.

"She thinks she's always been 'Nina,' and can't recall a time when she was anyone else. She doesn't know anything of her past; as far as she's concerned, she _has no_ provenance. It's likely that she was programmed not to concern herself with the matter. The fact that _you _are still able to break through, with your former memories intact, gives us some hope of restoring you... but there's still a part that's missing. You shouldn't be stuck in the mind of a sixteen-year-old. The fact that you _are_ indicates that— in all likelihood— you, as you are now, are just another fragmented personality, as much as Nina is."

Hermione went a bit pale as she processed what he was saying. "But Nina doesn't exist, Professor; she's either someone I made up to cope with my situation, or someone invented by whoever corrupted my memories... right? But I... I'm a real person..."

"You're saying Nina isn't a real person?" He asked, clearly baiting her.

"I don't know," she replied, undeterred, "is she? You know her better than I do..."

Severus pursed his lips and darted a sideways glance at her before taking another sip from his cup.

"Which is why I want you to tell me what happens when she's here; I need to know more about her."

"I doubt that whatever I tell you second-hand would really be helpful," Severus deflected. "I don't believe that's the way to go about restoring your memories."

"Why not?"

"Because spying on each other won't bring you any closer to integration, Miss Granger," he answered shortly. "It's more prudent to focus on what you both are missing."

"_Spying_?" Hermione repeated indignantly, "How is it 'spying' when I only want to know more about _myself_?"

"You are not _her, _Granger. That much, at least, has become clear to me. Best not to blur that line."

Hermione wondered what he meant by that. _What was he afraid of? _She slumped back in her chair, frustrated that he was being so obstinate. The afternoon had heated up considerably, and the discomfort of her layered outfit was adding to her growing impatience.

"I don't suppose you know how to transfigure a swimming pool," she murmured lazily.

Severus raised an eyebrow at the unexpected remark, before settling back into his own seat dejectedly.

"I didn't think so," she sighed.

Severus unwillingly recalled the bubblegum pink bikini that Nina had donned the other day, and entertained a brief fantasy of watching her emerge dripping wet from a pool of crystal clear water, sunlight glinting off of her smooth skin... _wasn't there a watering hole somewhere nearby?..._

Snape was looking at her in that disconcerting way again, and Hermione shifted under his penetrating gaze. Severus took another sip from his cup, watching the flash of her pale throat as she swallowed nervously.

"Is something the matter?" He inquired in that dangerously low voice of his.

"I'm just a little hot," she protested quietly.

"Take your dress off."

He'd answered without skipping a beat, in a deadpan voice that chilled her almost as much as a dip in a pool might have. She looked up at him with wide eyes, trying to figure out whether he'd meant it. _Surely he didn't mean to imply that he expected her to strip down in front of him? _Though the idea was ludicrous, it certainly sounded that way when he'd said it. It had almost sounded like a command. The blank look on his face did little to assuage her.

"Um... I think I'll leave it on," she muttered awkwardly.

Severus noticed her discomfort, but was hardly moved. He realized how the suggestion must have sounded, but he couldn't be bothered to care. He wasn't even sure what he meant by it, anyway. Perhaps he'd had enough to drink.

"There are some other clothes in the bedroom," Severus mentioned, taking pity on her. "Perhaps you'll find something more comfortable."

Hermione looked surprised. "Nina's clothes?"

"She found them stored in a box. They must've belonged to the previous occupants. They seem to fit well enough," he added.

"Oh," Hermione replied, looking at him speculatively. "Thanks, I'll go take a look then."

He watched her rise from her seat, unconsciously pulling the robe tighter over her otherwise exposed décolletage as she hurried away from him. He'd made her nervous— that much was clear; _had he done so intentionally? _Picking up his cup with a frown, he swallowed the small sip that remained before setting it back down with marked finality.

* * *

><p>Hermione tensed as she stepped into the bedroom for the first time, though part of her understood that she'd been there before. It felt empty and alien, though there was a certain homeliness about it that she couldn't put her finger on. It was simultaneously comforting and disquieting to stand there, and the paradox was giving her a headache. She decided to ignore it, turning to explore the closet and the dresser drawers. When she found them empty (save for a bunch of wire hangers, a brass lamp and some dingy looking quilts— one of which had been dumped unceremoniously on the closet floor), she turned to find a cardboard box that had been half-pushed under the bed. Apparently Nina wasn't in a hurry to unpack. Hermione pulled out the box and began sorting through the contents, frowning as she realized they had belonged to someone whose tastes were far removed from her own. At the bottom of the box were a pair of army green cargo pants, the cuffs of which had been rolled up. They were the most modest option, so she paired them with a small, faded blue t-shirt with a 70s unicorn design on the front. She was thankful to find a bikini as well, which she wore underneath since she couldn't find any bras or panties.<p>

As she began hanging up the shirts and dresses and folding the rest away in the top dresser drawer, she noticed the framed print on the wall that depicted a many-armed, Hindu goddess. It seemed to command her attention, being the only decorative element in the room, and she wondered at its significance. She stared at it with fascination, unconsciously compelled by the imagery.

Severus gave her an odd look when she reemerged, and she couldn't tell whether he was relieved or disappointed by her change of outfit; she could've sworn she saw both emotions cross his features. When his eyes lingered on her breasts, she became distinctly uncomfortable until she realized he was scrutinizing the unicorn design on her t-shirt.

"I'm not terribly fond of it, but my options were rather limited," she explained, thinking of the tasteless "Mr. Zog's Sex Wax" shirt she'd found tangled in the bedclothes as she'd straightened them out.

Snape didn't respond, but moved toward the sofa with a sluggishness that contradicted his usual grace. Hermione wondered if he was feeling alright.

"Are you okay, sir?" She asked, earning a frown.

"I'm fine, Granger."

"It's just that— you haven't seemed quite yourself since I've been here... I wondered whether something was wrong— I mean, something you haven't told me yet..."

"I told you I'm fine," he snapped, sitting heavily on the sofa before stretching out in a napping pose. "Don't concern yourself with my business."

Hermione decided to drop the subject, moving to sit on the chair across from him.

"Well then. Perhaps you could tell me what steps you've taken so far to try and reverse my memory loss."

Snape gave her a long-suffering sigh, pinching his brows as he decided whether it was worth answering her or not.

"You wouldn't be familiar with the procedures," he quibbled, "and I'm in no mood to explain advanced Legilimency to you."

"So you've tried Legilimency, then?" She replied.

"Of course I have," he scoffed.

"On Nina, I assume?"

"Who else?"

Hermione considered this for a moment, wondering how her alter ego had taken to the concept.

"She didn't mind, then?" She asked, "I mean, I understand that it can be rather invasive..."

Severus sighed, pressing his palms into his eyes. "Most of it had to be performed while she was asleep," he explained with clear reluctance. "It's less risky that way."

"Risky how?"

"I couldn't have her consciously trying to kick me out, could I?" he answered. "In sleep, only the subconscious mind can object. Even so, there's a risk that the mind would try and override the breach if I were to uncover anything that it was working to suppress. I had to proceed with extreme caution."

"I see," Hermione replied. Severus could almost hear the cogs of her mind whizzing away. "...Sir... earlier you said that Nina only knew as much about me as you had told her, and from what she'd seen in the memories you showed her..." Severus stiffened; he knew this question would come eventually. "What memories _did _you show her?"

"I showed her some of your memories at Hogwarts," he replied, feigning casualness. "I collected them from you before you were lost, hoping to use them to restore your memory in case you were obliviated before your rescue."

"I see..." she answered, as multiple questions occurred to her at once. "But what, specifically, was in these memories?"

Severus let out a short breath in annoyance, wishing he could deter her curiosity. He hadn't wanted to broach this subject with her, as he was certain it would only make things more uncomfortable between them. As far as he was concerned, _this _Hermione had no business asking this of him: the _real _Hermione— wherever she was— would understand...

"Just a bunch of the usual teenage nonsense, Granger," he answered impatiently, "I have no wish to relive it. I hardly see what difference it makes; the point is, they didn't work. Nina rejected them."

"Maybe if I knew what they were, I'd know why she rejected them..."

"She rejected them because she refuses to accept that she has a past which doesn't comport with what she's been programmed to believe about herself," he argued. "She's no more comfortable with the idea of being a schoolgirl than you are with the idea of being..."

"Of being what?" She prompted when he trailed off. He was about to say 'of being a whore,' but had fortunately caught himself.

"Of being someone else," he answered lamely. Hermione scrunched her features at his answer, certain that it wasn't what he meant to say.

"Well, I suppose that makes sense," she murmured, "but I still think I'm at a bit of a disadvantage here, knowing less about her than she seems to know about me."

"You're not competing with each other," Snape muttered.

"Are you sure about that?" She asked quietly. Severus gave her a thoughtful glance.

"Let me rest, Granger. I need a break."

"That's your plan then, is it?" she replied sullenly, "Taking a nap?"

"Do you have a better one?" He grumbled, his arm draped over his eyes.

"Why don't you try Legilimency on me?" She suggested.

"To what end?"

"Maybe you'll find something in my mind that you missed in hers..."

"It's _the same mind_, Granger."

"That's not what it sounds like; you said yourself that we're not the same person... so surely our minds work differently..."

"No," he corrected, "it's the same mind— you _think_ differently, to be sure. But two separate minds can't coexist in the same body. You share a mind, but you each use it differently."

"Can't you just try anyways? It must be worth a shot..."

"This is a first," he scoffed, "—no one has ever begged me to invade their private thoughts before."

"I'm _inviting _you," she corrected, "and with good reason: I want to fix this just as much as you do, Professor... if not more."

Severus sighed, giving her a long look before he pulled himself up to face her.

"It won't be comfortable," he warned her.

"I understand."

"—for either of us," he finished. "It can be quite draining."

"I'm up for it if you are, sir," she replied.

Severus took a deep breath and palmed his wand, fixing her with a piercing gaze.

"Are you ready?" He asked. He raised his wand as she nodded an affirmation. "_Legilimens..._"

He entered the now familiar territory of her mind, sifting past the surface thoughts and emotions as he made his way deeper into the shadowy, inchoate depths. He found the portion that remained closed off to him, and reconnoitered around it as he had done several times before, searching for a weak place through which he might slip through. As before, he found no such place, and eventually moved on to try to seek out suppressed memories that may be of use. He was reluctant to do so, recalling the gruesome impressions that he'd encountered before, and how drawing these out had hurt Hermione as she slept, causing her to cry in her sleep. _Still— she'd asked for this, hadn't she? _He hadn't tried sifting through these memories while she was conscious, though; perhaps this wasn't a good idea...

Severus came upon some of the darker memories, feeling a slight shift in pressure as these drifted past, untouched. As he made his way further along, he could feel a definite change as Hermione must've become partially aware that he was inhabiting this dangerous place. The pressure increased, trying to expel him as he held his ground. He pulled back slightly to examine her conscious state, finding her agitated and nervous, but still determined to allow him access. He dove back in, deeper this time, pushing past the unconscious barriers as he sought out her darkest memories; if there were answers to be found, they'd certainly be cloaked in shadows. Somewhere, there had to be a link that would help explain why Nina and Hermione were at odds: some memory that connected the two, but alienated them from each other at the same time. Finding it, though, was quite the proverbial needle in the haystack, as shadowy memories abounded.

Being distracted by the enormity of his task, he hadn't paid attention when one of the shadowy memories tried to slink by unnoticed, and he ended up touching it inadvertently. Before he could prevent it, he had entered it: he reeled as he was bombarded with the image of a man forcing his cock down Nina's throat, feeling her discomfort and anger as she tried to pull back, only for him to tighten his grip on her hair as he plunged deeper. She gagged as the man came forcefully, muttering '_Fuck!' _as he tried too late to prevent his rapid climax. '_Look what you made me do, bitch!' _the man grunted, backhanding Nina as he frustratedly regarded his deflating erection. '_Don't think you're gonna get off that easily,' _he warned her, _'I'll be back to fuck you, bitch... I'll fuck you so hard your cunt will bleed.' _The man shoved his pants on as Nina stayed still on her knees with her eyes averted, until the man left the room. '_We'll see about that,' _she muttered.

As Severus recoiled from the dark memory, he felt the pressure around him constrict unbearably, momentarily panicking from the unusual sensation until he was forcefully rejected from her mind. He fell back against the couch in breathless alarm, the room slowly coming back into focus as he struggled to sit up and figure out what had just happened. He found Hermione slouched over on the chair in front of him, and quickly moved to help her, lifting her up and pushing her hair out of her face.

"Hermione? What happened? Are you alright?" He questioned in a panic. There were tear stains on her face, and her eyes were closed. Severus was just about to summon a reviving draught when he heard her take a sharp intake of breath. "Hermione?"

She opened her eyes blearily, focusing on him as she came to.

"What did you do?" she asked plaintively.

"Only what you asked me to," he answered in a gravelly voice, "I'm sorry; I told you it wouldn't be comfortable..."

Her eyes searched over him, still struggling to ground herself.

"What's the matter?" she asked, lifting a hand to his face and regarding him critically. She leaned forward and took a small sniff. "...have you been drinking?"

Severus pulled back, wondering why she was only just noticing. "You have..." she accused, "How come?"

"Let's focus on what just happened to you, shall we?" He deflected, "My connection was forcefully broken," he explained, sounded somewhat exasperated, "Which should not have happened without warning. Do you remember what happened before the break?" He asked this last question carefully, not wishing to upset her in case she had witnessed the same scene he'd been made to watch while in her mind.

"_Before the break?_" She repeated in confusion. "I don't know what you mean... the last thing I remember I was in the bath, and..."

Severus stiffened, suddenly realizing what had happened. "...Nina?"

"Yes?"

Severus sighed, pushing himself back onto the sofa. Nina started at him questioningly as realization slowly dawned on her, as well.

"You were with _her_, weren't you?" She asked in a flat voice. Severus' answering look was confirmation enough. Nina's eyes narrowed as she looked around the room, trying to find some kind of evidence that the other had just been there. "How long was I away?" She inquired.

"Not long," Severus answered, sounding defeated. "Several hours."

Nina looked down and noticed the awful cargo pants that she was now dressed in, as well as the lame unicorn t-shirt. "Oh God, what am I wearing?" she murmured, standing up in irritation. She felt the constricting pressure of the bikini's elastic underneath her clothes. Huffing in annoyance, she headed for the bedroom. Severus did not attempt to stop her.

As she pulled off the pants and shirt, she looked around and noticed that the bed had been made, her nightclothes carefully folded and set atop her pillow. She stomped over to the bed and pulled back the sheets, tossing the clothes to the floor and crumpling the linens. Then she saw that the box underneath the bed had been emptied, and found her clothes hanging in the closet. With a growl of indignation, she pulled them down— hangers and all— and stuffed them back into the box. When she couldn't find her shorts, she marched back into the living room, still wearing just the bikini.

"Where did that bitch hide my shorts?" She demanded, causing Severus to look up at her in consternation. Whatever reply he would've made died on his lips as he saw her in that bikini again. Unable to find words, Severus simply shrugged, causing Nina to scowl as she returned to the bedroom with an "Ugh!" of frustration. As she proceeded to roughly tear out the dresser drawers, Severus convinced himself that he deserved a fourth drink.

* * *

><p>.<p> 


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

Severus was well on his way towards his fifth drink when he decided to check on Nina. Furtively peering into the bedroom, he found her in the closet, stretching her near-naked body taut as she attempted to shove the pair of cargo pants that Hermione had donned earlier into the furthest corner of the high shelf, behind some quilts. Hiding them, apparently. Severus took in the sight somberly, scanning her from bare shoulders to toes as she balanced on the balls of her feet, exposing her delicate arches. _What was it about her bare feet that had him so enthralled?_ As she leaned in for a final shove, her left leg lifted slightly as her weight shifted to the right one, stretching out behind her as she steadied herself before landing gracefully in a satisfied stance. By the time she'd turned back around, Severus had quietly fled the doorway, trying to drink away the memory of her flexing thighs.

* * *

><p>"I take it you didn't have that much fun with Hermione?" Nina asked, surprising Severus as he stood in the front doorway, drinking as he contemplated the ever-receding horizon. He turned to find her changed back into the delicious blue denim dress, languidly brushing out her hair as she approached him.<p>

"What makes you say that?" He grumbled, aware that his tone must've confirmed her suspicion. He anticipated her answering smirk.

"How many drinks have you had already?" She asked in a knowing voice, raising an eyebrow as she tilted her head to brush out the underside of her thick mane.

"I don't need you keeping score," he muttered, throwing back another portion.

"What is that you're drinking, anyway?" she queried, straightening up as she approached him to investigate the contents of his cup. Trapped between her and the door frame, Severus could only manage a weakly executed glower as she pressed up close to him and gripped his arm as she tilted the cup with her other hand, her features scrunching as she observed the clear liquid, flinching as she sniffed at it.

"What is this stuff?" she asked, looking up at him with imploring eyes, her hand still clutching his forearm. When he only stared back at her with a half-indignant expression, she continued, "Is it some kind of freaky wizard booze? It smells pretty intense..."

"It's a distillation of my own making," he finally answered, loftily removing her hand from his arm.

"You brewed it yourself?" she asked, sounding impressed, "Can I try it?"

"Certainly not." he answered, stepping away from her as he took another greedy sip.

"I'm sure I can handle one taste," she insisted, folding her arms as she followed him to the sofa. "I'd love to try wizard's moonshine... it sounds decadent."

As she set her brush down on the side table and perched on the arm of the sofa beside him, Severus experienced a rare impulse towards generosity. The novelty of the feeling compelled him to act on it. "Just a sip," he warned, "I guarantee you'll feel it well enough."

Nina beamed in excitement as she took the proffered cup gratefully, sniffing it again as she looked down at him from her high seat. With a mischievous grin, she tilted the cup back and downed the entire contents in one, twisting away from him as he moved to snatch it back from her. She regretted the move instantly, struggling not to sputter as the liquor burned her entire mouth, nose and throat, her eyes spilling over in tears of discomfort as she gasped for air.

"What the fuck _is _that stuff?" she coughed, turning on him with incredulous eyes.

"Watch your language," he barked, tearing the cup from her hands and angrily regarding the empty contents.

"That was absolutely vile!" she shouted, "I can't believe you willingly drink that!"

"I don't drink it for the taste," he replied sarcastically, setting the cup down as he rifled through his discarded robes for his flask.

"I should hope not," she replied, before taking a moment to appreciate the effects that were slowly filtering into her consciousness. "Ooh... but I'm starting to understand why you put up with it..."

Severus looked up at her smugly, knowing full well what she must be experiencing.

"That's no ordinary liquor, Miss... Nina," he said. "It's infused with magic, of course."

"Of course, _Mister_ Severus," she agreed, smiling down at him with a funny look in her eyes.

"You shouldn't've drunk all of that," he muttered, finally producing the flask before he topped off his cup again. "Someone of your size and experience ought to pace themselves."

"What do you know of my experience?" she protested, "Don't you raise that eyebrow at me... I'll have you know that this is not the liver of some spring chicken," she insisted, poking at her side. "...chicken? Lamb. Spring lamb," she amended, before furrowing her brows deeper, "that doesn't sound right."

"Chicken," Severus corrected.

"Who are you calling 'chicken'?" she exclaimed, "Pour me another! I'll show you who's a chicken!"

"I think you've had quite enough already," he warily replied, already regretting his generosity.

"I think you might be right," she laughed, sliding off her perch on the sofa arm to land on his lap, causing him to spill the cup he'd just poured.

"Damn it!" he hissed, "Look what you made me do!"

"Shhh... I'll clean it up for you," she cooed, straddling his thighs as she took his wet hand in hers and carefully lapped the clear liquid off his skin, looking up at him with playful eyes as she licked and sucked her way down his arm, tracing the wet trail. Severus went completely still, watching her, transfixed, as he half-heartedly considered stopping her. When she reached the end of the trail, she sat up and lifted his hand back to her mouth, lightly sucking on his pinky finger before moving to the ring finger, sucking it down to the base before pulling off of it slowly, her lips parting to reveal a flash of tongue before descending on the middle finger, her eyes never leaving his. When she arrived at the index finger, she let her tongue caress it gently, softly pressing against it as she watched his eyes for disapproval, then taking it deeper when she found none, until her tongue was tickling the underside of his hand. When she pulled it out, sucking the whole way, she moved her mouth to the soft flesh between thumb and forefinger, licking and nibbling before biting down slowly, smiling up at him as her teeth locked onto his flesh and his hips bucked up unconsciously. He looked absolutely dazed now, and she could tell the effects of the liquor were finally taking hold of him.

"Did I get it all?" she asked softly, running her fingertips along the underside of his hand and arm. When he replied with a non-committal 'hrmm,' she continued, "Where else did it spill?", looking up at him with a deviousness that he barely registered.

"Here?" she asked, touching the side of his damp shirt before bending down to suckle the dark material. She smiled as she felt his muscles contract beneath her.

"Here?" she continued, glancing up at him before twisting down further to lift the hem of his shirt and lick at the skin of his exposed hip, causing a sharp intake of breath.

"_Here?"_ she asked in an preternaturally innocent voice as she hovered over his bulging erection, slinking down between his legs and dipping her head to suckle the fabric as her hand moved to surreptitiously unfasten his belt. She had already undone the first few buttons of his slacks and was preparing to reach inside when she was suddenly thrown off of him as he stood abruptly, muttering _"Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!" _as he ran his hands through his hair and down his face while he made his way to the kitchen, refastening his clothing. She watched him dejectedly as he ran the tap and splashed cold water on his face before leaning under and slurping down big gulps of it, then gripping the side of the basin as he leaned over the sink dripping and cursing as the tap continued to run.

Nina sighed heavily and leaned into the seat cushion, her knuckles idly caressing the residual warmth of the place he'd just vacated. _She'd been so close!_

Eventually Nina rose from her place on the floor and crept over to him, gently reaching under him and turning off the still-running tap. Before she could pull away, she froze when she felt his forehead lean softly against the back of her head, his prodigious nose burying itself in her hair. Her heart fluttered strangely as he sighed against her, his right arm wrapping around her and leaning into the counter on the other side of her, trapping her between his taught arms as he continued leaning into her with his forehead, his chest barely touching the curve of her back. She didn't know how long they remained like that, but wasn't willing to break the contact despite the minor awkwardness of her position. She closed her eyes and focused on the soft breaths he was releasing into her hair, ticking the back of her neck.

Eventually she heard him murmur, ever so quietly, _"I want to touch you. I want to very badly, but I __cannot__. Must not. I need you to understand this."_

His words, spoken so softly into her hair, made her simultaneously lightheaded and heavy-hearted as his meaning slowly filtered in. He wanted her, but he wouldn't take her. Wouldn't let her in. His breath was warm against her neck, but his words were cold.

After several moments passed again in silence, Nina tentatively twisted around to face him. His eyes had been closed, but opened slowly as she stared at him, her face inches away from his. The torment and lust she saw when his eyes focused on her made her knees weak; she was certain no man had ever looked at her quite like that. Whatever he was holding back from her, she wanted it desperately.

"Will you kiss me, Severus?" she asked quietly, her voice sounding smaller than she anticipated. "Just kiss me," she pleaded when a small line appeared between his brows. "Just one kiss," she whispered, "Just one, between you and me."

Severus regarded her for a long moment as she gazed up at him hopefully, looking quite lost and helpless. He'd be cruel to deny her this request. He'd be crueler to indulge it. But, _dear gods, _didn't she look so inviting, standing there in the early evening light? Before he could make a conscious decision, his body made it for him as his lips met hers across the short distance. Hers parted as she inhaled in sweet surprise, and he deepened the kiss hesitantly, careful not to let his passion overtake him as he kissed her softly but soundly. She sighed quietly as he pulled away, her lips still parted and her eyes closed as she wavered before regaining her balance. When she opened her eyes, he had backed away and was standing at his full height. She smiled at him sadly.

"Thank you, Severus," she said in a voice just above a whisper. "No one's ever kissed me like that."

He looked at her strangely before his face took on an expression that told her she wasn't going to like whatever he was about to say in response.

"There was nothing extraordinary about it. You're mildly intoxicated. We both are. You're only feeling the effects of the drink's magical properties."

She frowned slightly, but wasn't so easily put off. "Well, why don't we sober up then and try again? Just to compare, of course."

"Purely scientific, hmm?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow as he stepped towards her.

"Purely scientific," she smirked.

"Hmm," he mumbled, reaching out and touching her chin before withdrawing his hand.

"I've got a better idea," he said. "Go change into your swimsuit."

It was Nina's turn to quirk an eyebrow, as she looked at him speculatively.

"Go on," he prompted, "before I sober up and change my mind."

Nina didn't need to be told twice, and smiled wryly before slipping past him. She had no idea what he had in mind, but she was more than willing to go along with it.

* * *

><p>When Nina strutted back into the living room adjusting her bikini top, she nearly gasped to find Severus standing bare-chested in a pair of transfigured swim trunks, pocketing his wand.<p>

"If you're planning on sunbathing, your timing is off," Nina remarked. "The sun will be setting pretty soon..."

"It's still miserably hot out," he answered, before beckoning to her. "Come here."

Nina approached him slowly, wondering what he was up to. When she was standing in front of him, he stepped in to close the distance between them, and for a wild moment she thought he might kiss her again. Instead, she was surprised when he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in against his bare chest; she only had a moment to appreciate the sensation before the ground seemed to fall away beneath her, and she spun away into compressed space.

They landed with a jolt on warm earth, Nina stumbling against Severus as she fought to regain composure.

"What was that?" she squeaked, clutching his arms as he gripped her shoulders to steady her, "Did we just fly here?"

"We apparated," he replied, looking around, "I'm sorry for the rough landing; my concentration was slightly impaired..."

"Is that how wizards travel?" she asked, bewildered.

"It's one method," he answered distractedly, "...it must be around here somewhere..."

"What is?" she asked, looking around and squinting at the brush and towering rock formations that surrounded them. "Why are we out here?"

"You'll see," he answered evasively, taking off toward a sunken gorge.

"Hey!" she called after him, "Where are you going?"

When he failed to answer her, she was forced to follow him, annoyed that he hadn't told her to wear shoes as she stepped gingerly over the coarse ground.

She found him paused in front of an orange-brown rock face draped in light green foliage, studying the perimeter with a focused expression. When she approached, he held out his hand silently, taking hers and pressing it against the rock.

"Do you feel that?" he asked quietly. Nina squinted her eyes as she concentrated on the stone beneath her palm.

"It seems to be vibrating," she replied, "it tingles..."

Severus smiled strangely at her, something lighting in his eyes.

"What is it?" she asked, splaying her fingers as she marveled at the unexpected sensation.

"Magic," he answered simply, "you're feeling magic."

Her eyes widened a fraction in response, and she looked at the stone as if she might recognize something extraordinary. It looked to her like an ordinary rock.

"There is old magic here," he explained, touching a place on the stone beside her hand as he looked toward the precipice. "It hides a secret place." His eyes then turned on her consideringly. "Find it," he instructed, "follow the trace."

She looked at him aghast. "I don't know how..."

"You can feel it, can't you?" he offered gently, "Just follow it. Use your hands."

Nina looked at him imploringly, uncomfortable to be in such a position. She knew this was some kind of test, and she'd be mortified if she failed it. She didn't want to appear inadequate in front of him.

"You do it," she said quietly, "I don't want to."

"You can do this, Nina," he said in a no-nonsense tone, "don't over-think it."

Nina took in a short breath and turned back to the stone, carefully running her hand over it as she tried to ascertain any difference in the vibrational field. It all felt the same to her, so she slowly made her way to the left, walking several feet before frowning and turning back to scale along the right side. When she picked up the trace again, her heart skipped as she realized it extended along the right face of the wall. She looked to Severus for encouragement before continuing, gradually making her way around the rock until she was climbing up into a narrow ravine. As she made her way over the scattered boulders, she noticed a small stream trickling down through the center of the crevasse, along which narrow trees with tiny leaves grew, each with silvery trunks slim enough to wrap her hand around. Along the edges of the ravine, wispy bushes that seemed to whisper as she brushed against them cropped up in places. The delicate flora and the murmuring stream did seem to lend the passage an aura of enchantment, and a certain excitement stirred in her chest as she went forth.

The passage became darker and narrower the further they went, but she could see soft golden beams of light playing at the end. The magic tingle had increased beneath her fingers, and soon she realized that she no longer needed to touch the stone to feel it; it was moving all around her now, saturating the very air with a gentle thrum. Her body had heated up considerably from the exertion, and if she hadn't been so determined to reach her goal, she would've paused at the stream to splash water on her hot skin. As she cleared the end of the passage, she looked up with a deep gasp to find that the crevasse opened into a partially enclosed grotto; she was standing at the back of it, beneath a wide canopy of sienna stone overgrown with airy green foliage that burst forth from every crevasse and hung down lazily over the mouth. Stretching out beneath it was a majestic pool of deep emerald green water, which was lit up at the far end by the reflected light of the retreating sun. Smooth, odd-shaped boulders jutted out of the water here and there like little islands scattered about, and the rock walls on either side retreated into the distance until they culminated in a rough-looking outcropping surrounded by an impenetrable tangle of brush. The green of the pool reflected eerie light on the walls around her, setting the whole grotto in a soft glow that seemed to pulse with ancient power. Nina was breathless. She was startled when Severus' hand touched her shoulder, having forgotten about him entirely as she became immersed in her own wondrous world. "You found it," he whispered, sending a shiver through her.

"What is this place?" she whispered back, delighting as his warm fingers trailed down her arm as he stepped close behind her.

"A place of old magic," he answered, "known only to magic folk and Aborigines, most of whom have magic. Other than that, I don't know much more about it; I only knew it existed, though I've never been here myself."

Nina took a deep breath, savoring the strong, earthy smell of the place: the dankness of wet rock, the blissful, negative ion-charged mingling of warm air and water trickling beneath her feet, and the sweet muskiness radiating off of the heated body behind her. It was a heady blend, amplified by something deeper; something she detected beyond all these sensations... the essence of something unfamiliar and elusive, but immediately captivating. She was overcome with the desire to submerge herself in the inviting water.

Taking Severus by the hand, she led him around the rim to a formation that resembled a natural stairway into the green pool. Severus allowed himself to be led, surprising himself with his lack of resistance. Something was happening here that he had no desire to interfere with; this place had a special hold on the both of them, but he knew it wasn't dark — ancient and powerful, certainly, but not dark. If Nina felt it too, then she was one step closer to reconciling herself with her repressed magic.

At the edge of the water, she turned to him and smiled as she took a step backwards into the cool depths, and began slowly descending the stone stairs as he followed, never releasing her hand. As they became submerged up to their waists, the pool seemed to come alive all around them as the ripples their movements cast upon the surface sent quivering lights through the half-dome and across the shadowed walls beyond. A soft breeze swept through the channel then, which set the greenery to whispering amongst themselves as the couple parted, Nina pushing off the rock to drift into the middle of the water as Severus dove under to follow her. When he popped up beside her with a small gasp and shook his hair off of his face, Nina laughed as the water sprayed her while the breeze loosened some of the small leaves from the branches overhead, sending a light rain of fluttering green petals to dance and fall around them.

Nina noticed that Severus' eyes had softened as he gazed at her, and if she could've seen herself, she'd have seen that hers had become remarkably warm as well as she gazed back at him. Slightly unsettled by the intimacy of the moment, Nina held in a deep breath and sunk below the water, her hair fanning out around her as Severus watched her disappear. When she reemerged, Severus' heart skipped to see his fantasy from earlier that day partially realized as she bobbed up soaking wet, bending back to collect her hair behind her as streams of water trailed down all around her. The compulsion to touch her— to taste her wet skin— was stronger than ever, and he forced himself to push back and drift away as she readjusted her top (which, being strapless, was less fit for actually swimming in than it was for lounging around the poolside). She swam out to one of the boulder islands and managed to climb atop it with some small amount of grace, before stretching out and reveling in the heat that the stone retained from soaking in sunlight earlier that day. The moisture from her skin and hair drained down around her in tiny rivulets as she lay on the rock in a languid pose, appearing to Severus like every bit the siren that she undoubtedly was.

Her silent call beckoned him, and— being no Odysseus— he answered, swimming toward her enchantments. Hearing his approach, she turned to him with a lazy smile and dropped her arm to let the back of her hand skim across the water, playing with the tiny waves that lapped against her rock as he moved closer.

"Who are you?" she asked him in a strange, dreamlike voice, "What land gave birth to you?"

Severus looked taken aback, cocking his head at her in response. Her wry smirk stirred his blood.

"Why have you come here, to my domain?" she continued, her slanted eyes toying with him as her knuckles trailed a lazy half-circle in the water.

"And just who are you supposed to be, now?" he replied warily, wondering what kind of game this was.

She looked at him incredulously, as if his ignorance offended her.

"I am Circe, of course!" she answered in a haughty tone, "And this is my island."

Severus was thoroughly perplexed, realizing she'd referenced _The Odyssey_ moments after he'd made a similar connection in his head.

"Oh, you're Circe, are you?" he teased, "Making such a claim is tantamount to blasphemy where I come from."

"And where is that, Man?" she asked again, "From what strange land do you issue, you with your dark eyes and long black hair?"

Severus looked nearly bashful then, and her smirk stretched wider.

"You'd make a stupendous beast for my menagerie," she quipped, "perhaps a wolf."

"Are you threatening me, witch?" he replied in a low but teasing voice, and the appellation thrilled her. She wasn't sure if he was playing along or if he actually considered her a witch, like her counterpart. Either way, she was having fun.

"Hmm. You might be too churlish for a wolf," she amended, "perhaps you'd be better suited as a pig."

"A _pig_?"

"Yes. A nice, fat pig," she replied, suppressing a laugh.

"_Fat_?" he repeated indignantly, furrowing his brows as he glanced over his own body. He might've gotten a bit lazy and overfed over the last few days, but no one in their right mind would accuse him of being pudgy.

Nina's laugh broke free as she watched him scrutinize himself, exulting in her ability to make him self-conscious.

"And just how did you come to know so much about classic mythology?" he queried, surprised that Nina would be able to spout out this particular nonsense.

"Doesn't every girl want to know about seductive sorceresses who keep spellbound man-slaves?" she replied with whimsy.

"Hmm. Not every girl, I think," Severus answered speculatively. "I expect that particular fantasy is one of your many eccentricities."

Nina just smirked a secretive smile and rolled onto her chest, resting her head on her right arm as her left took over the habit of stroking the water. Grains of sand from the rock clung to the skin of her back and thighs, and Severus unthinkingly lifted a handful of water to wash it off of her, appearing hypnotized as he repeated the process, reverently rinsing the tiny grains from her flesh while the water trickled back down to its source. Nina watched his movements with wonder, feeling quite like the pampered witch-queen she'd posed as. She hardly reacted when his wet hand took to gently stroking the remaining grains away, a faraway look on his features as he absentmindedly caressed her slick skin.

"How come you've never taken me here before, Severus?" she asked calmly, breaking him out of his reverie. He dropped his hand as he looked to her with an idle expression, taking a moment to recall who he was and who was speaking to him.

"It never occurred to me, I suppose," he answered, stretching back to float off in a lazy backstroke.

Nina considered his answer with slight suspicion, wondering if he meant to keep this secret from her until the heat— and perhaps another force— broke his resolve.

"I like it here," she said, looking up at the shimmering canopy with awestruck eyes. "I could stay forever."

Severus just drifted along with eyes closed as another soft breeze stirred the leaves overhead and sent them cascading down like green snowflakes. He squinted one eye open as a leaf landed on the corner of his mouth, and gently blew it away. He couldn't recall a time when he'd felt so relaxed, and allowed his cares to melt away as his mind was permeated with an empty bliss that trickled outward, saturating his entire being.

He had no idea how long he drifted, seeming transported to a dimension outside of time wherein his mind and body were restored for him by subtle forces; ages of pain and misery wiped away and soothed by unseen hands, and replaced by a serenity that had been so long denied. He sighed deeply as his body and soul reconvened, opening his eyes with new clarity to find that the sun had nearly set, drenching the highest walls of the cavern in gold light as the cool shadows advanced. He glanced toward Nina's island to find her sleeping on her stony bed, her wavy mane mostly dried while one portion had fallen in the water, partially submerged. She looked utterly at peace, and in her element. He thought she'd make a fine mer-person.

He swam toward her, not wanting to wake her but desiring a closer look at the sleeping siren. Her skin appeared luminous against the dun brown of the rock, and as she lay there in her insubstantial bikini with an expression of pure innocence on her pretty face, she looked like a kind of newly-born Venus; the very image of vestal manifestation. Severus almost felt unworthy to gaze upon her.

Another breeze swept through the canyon— stronger, this time— and she stirred slightly in her sleep as her skin pricked up in gooseflesh. The golden light was nearly gone now, visible only in the branches of the brush that was scattered along the top of the gorge. Knowing he couldn't apparate inside this place, Severus thought it would be prudent to start heading back before nightfall. With one last look at the sleeping beauty, he carefully lifted her into his arms to carry her back toward the grotto. She woke as he submerged her lower body in the water, her arms curling around his neck as awareness played at the edges of her dreamy mindset. The feel of his bare chest against her wet body was immediately intoxicating, and she sighed as she caressed his shoulder with her face, brushing his warm skin with her lips. She felt him tense beneath her, and dragged her fingers through the hair above the nape of his neck to soothe him.

"Nina," he warned in a broken voice, gently releasing her as they approached the shallower depths beneath the overhanging canopy. Carefully feeling for the floor, she pressed her body against his as she steadied herself in the dark water. The cavern was lit up now with a deeper shade of green that glowed almost unnaturally around them as the daylight faded into a lilac twilight.

"Don't you want to kiss me again, Severus?" she urged in a gentle voice, bobbing in the water as it was still too deep for her to stand comfortably. Severus' hand instinctively reached for her waist to anchor her. The feel of her body underwater was almost too much for him.

"You know the rules, Nina," he answered, though his face didn't match his words.

"The rules are different here," she replied, her fingers curling around his shoulders as his hand hovered uncertainly at her waist. When he gave her a look suggesting he was unconvinced, she continued, "This place is special, Severus; I know you can feel it, too."

Severus did feel it, and more besides, as he floated there with one foot on the ground, gravitating toward the mermaidian enchantress.

"I fear that if I touch you now, I won't want to let go," he murmured plaintively, unconsciously circling around her. She followed his movements, twirling in place as he faced the opposite wall.

"Then don't," she urged, before whispering fiercely, "_don't let go._"

Severus' resolve broke as she moved up against him, circling her in his arms as he met her in a passionate kiss. Another breeze picked up, tossing their hair as leaves swirled around them and the last of the light was snuffed out, leaving only the murky green shadows to illuminate their unearthly abode. Nina's body melted against his as their tongues met in languorous strokes, her hands trapped against his chest as he pulled her tight against him, his strong hands grasping at her possessively as his mouth took its sweet time exploring hers. Distantly aware that he couldn't support her body at such a depth and kiss her thoroughly at the same time, he began pushing her back toward the rear of the cavern, panting as her legs wrapped around his hips as he carried her backwards until he had her up against a rock. She gasped as the unexpected stone pressed against her back, and he broke away from her mouth to taste her neck, sucking greedily at her soft skin.

Nina's heart was pounding as she felt his mouth trying to devour her and his hands pawing at her like they'd never touched a woman before. She was certain she'd never wanted a man so much in her life. As his mouth released her neck with a gasp, she gripped his arms and guided him to the stone steps, where she pulled him down with her until they were half-submerged in the beryl green water as she reclined against the wet rock. Severus was looking at her with more intensity than she'd seen from him yet, appearing torn between a failing conscience and an overwhelming desire to pound her against the rocks. She was determined to see the latter compulsion prevail.

"Touch me, Severus," she begged, "feel how much I want you."

Taking his hand in hers, she guided him under the water to skim over her heated thighs until he was touching her sex through the slippery membrane of her bikini briefs. He bit the inside of his lower lip in agony as she parted the material for him and his fingers met the slickness beneath, her soft folds drenched in her juices. She cried out and arched her back as he touched her engorged clit, and he released a heavy breath against her as he fumbled with his trunks.

"_Yes,_" she panted, her chest heaving in anticipation, "_do it..._"

He'd no sooner released his cock than he felt the stirring of unfamiliar magic surrounding him, nearly distracting him from his goal. The air between them was charged with something more than sex, but he wasn't of a mind to investigate it at that moment.

He was just about to guide himself to her entrance when the magic gripped him, taking him by surprise as he shot his load with a cry of anguish, gripping the base of his cock as he tried in vain to stem back the untimely release.

Nina looked up at him with a knowing look of disappointment, sighing a pained sigh as she slumped back into the rocks. _So close!_

Severus looked down in mortification as strings of come drifted down through the water, his flaccid penis held uselessly in his right hand. He slumped down to his knees, slowly righting his trunks with what little energy he had left.

"That's never happened to me before," he muttered with clear embarrassment, unable to look at her.

"It's alright," she sighed, "I'm used to it."

He flashed her a glance at that, torment seizing his features again as he contemplated her meaning. He turned away from her in despondency, slumping forward with his elbows propped against his knees as he held his head miserably.

"This was a mistake," he moaned, "I'm so sorry."

Nina sat up as she heard his mournful tone, frowning as she took in the sorry sight of him. She raised a hand to his shoulder, but he only shrugged her off.

"You don't need to apologize, honestly," she insisted, "it's really no big deal. Trust me: it happens all the time."

His answering cry of pain suggested that her words hadn't been helpful.

"Severus..." she tried, "don't be too hard on yourself; it's my fault. I wanted you. I _want _you. ...and I have a way of getting what I want."

He just held his head quietly as she sat beside him with her legs pulled up against her chest, slumping down to rest her head on her knees. The silence stretched between them as the evening grew dark, and stars started appearing in the aubergine sky.

"We should be getting back," he eventually spoke, "it's getting late."

"I know," she agreed. Neither seemed to want to move, however.

"Severus?" she asked, when they'd remained silent for several beats. He turned toward her in response, still not meeting her eyes.

"Can you promise me something?" she continued. He finally looked up at her searchingly, with a trace of wariness.

"Can you promise not to take Hermione here?" she asked quietly, her nervousness betraying her. "Can you keep this place just between the two of us?"

Severus' eyes softened as he looked over her consideringly.

"I promise," he gently replied. She gave him a small smile of fulfillment, which he returned with his eyes.

"Come on, then," he said, standing up, "we need to go back to where we came from before I can apparate us back home."

_Home,_ she thought, a frisson of warmth passing through her as he spoke the word.

"How will we find our way in the dark?" she asked, rising to meet him.

"Have you already forgotten what I am?" he replied smugly, pulling out his wand and casting a powerful _lumos _that lit up the entire cavern. Nina beamed at him appreciatively, reaching for his hand as he turned to make his way back to the entrance. He raised an eyebrow as he looked down at their joined hands in surprise, but decided to indulge her, squeezing her hand lightly in response as he led her out of the grotto and back down the rocky path.

"You might've thought to have me bring shoes," she complained, stepping gingerly over the stones as she trailed behind him. He pursed his lips as he regarded her bare feet, then conjured her canvas sneakers with a flick of his wand, conjuring a t-shirt onto his bare chest as an afterthought. "Oh!" Nina exclaimed when she suddenly found her feet properly outfitted for the trek, "You're wonderful! Do you know that?" Severus just rolled his eyes slightly as he turned away from her, effectively hiding his pleased smirk as he led her back toward solid ground.

* * *

><p><strong><em>AN: It's been awhile, I know... summertime distractions abound. _**


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

That night, Severus slept like a baby. Though he went to bed still haunted by the guilt of what he'd almost done with Nina (and of what he had, in fact, done), the trip to the grotto had been a much-needed balm to his mind, body and soul. There was something powerful contained in that place; something healing, to be sure. He'd nearly gone and spoiled everything by giving in to the temptation to enjoy the pleasures of Nina's body, forgetting (conveniently) that it was Hermione's body he'd really be defiling. Nina might act like she owned it, but it wasn't hers to give away. He really needed to try and remember that. He also needed to avoid drinking around her.

Despite himself, he fell asleep cosseted in the hazy warmth provided by the memory of her wet skin against his.

* * *

><p>Nina wasn't so fortunate. That night she went to bed unsatisfied, despite the happy memory of his hand in hers as they made their way back to the apparation point. Hand holding was fine — wonderful, even — but it wasn't what she really wanted from him. Remembering how incredible his strong hand had felt against her sex — even if only for one brief, agonizingly sweet moment — had her tossing and turning as she fumbled to replicate the sensation with her own inadequate fingers, nearly sobbing in frustration. It wasn't enough. She barely avoided a panic attack when she couldn't make herself climax, anxiety tightening her chest as she rolled over and stifled a scream with her pillow. She eventually fell asleep that way, tangled in her sheets with her face smashed against her pillow, fantasizing uselessly about all the ways she wanted to have that man, and be taken by him.<p>

* * *

><p>Hermione woke in a cold sweat, shaken by the nightmares that were still fresh in her mind. In the darkness of the room she could still see her professor's face, twisted and distorted as he forced himself on her, hurting and smothering her as he took her brutally, ignoring her cries as she begged him to stop. She'd never had such a terrible dream before, and couldn't make heads or tails of it; she adored her professor— admired him perhaps above all others... how could she make him such a monster in her imagination? What could her subconscious mind possibly be trying to tell her? Was it just an aberration; a meaningless nightmare brought on by something she'd eaten? Why was her lower body so cold...?<p>

Taking stock of her surroundings, she realized she had somehow managed to tangle the bedsheets completely around her left leg, exposing her rear end as she'd also somehow managed to wiggle out of her spandex shorts, which were dangling off of her right ankle. She'd never managed such a feat before. It didn't seem possible, unless... had she fallen asleep that way?

Her head throbbed as she sat up and tried to remember what had happened. She noticed that she was back in that bedroom again, though this was the first time she could recall sleeping in the bed. The last memory she could draw on was of Professor Snape preparing to enter her mind... she'd asked him to perform Legilimency on her... perhaps it had knocked her out, and he had put her in the bed to sleep it off? But then, why would her shorts be around her ankles? Could she really have tugged them down in her sleep?

A chill ran through her as her mind momentarily contemplated the unspeakable, without her consent. _No_, she assured herself, _that's ridiculous. _Her professor wouldn't _rape_ her. What a thought. It was only a bad dream. He's not that kind of man, she was sure of it. ..._w__asn't she?_

Hermione righted her shorts and sheet with unsteady hands as she attempted to push the awful thought from her mind. She needed a solid rest. Hopefully when she woke again, she'd forget that she had even considered such a thing. He deserved better.

* * *

><p>When Hermione emerged from the bedroom the next day, she found Snape at the kitchen sink, pouring something down the drain from a silver flask. She stretched and yawned as she waited for him to turn around, her hand flying to her midriff as he turned abruptly at the sound, tugging the stretchy material of her dusty pink camisole back in place as she blushed, not expecting it to have risen so high. When she bashfully met his eyes, she was alarmed to see his had widened considerably as he gaped at her in a look she could only interpret as a kind of horror.<p>

"I woke up in these clothes," she explained, fearing that he disapproved of her outfit. His eyes moved from a place above her chest to meet hers, and she watched in growing alarm as numerous emotions flashed across his face at once.

"Who are you?" he asked in an urgent voice, "Who are you now?"

She looked at him in shock for a moment until she realized what he must be asking.

"Oh! It's me, Professor," she assured him, "Hermione... why, was 'Nina' back?" she asked with concern.

Her professor's face fell as he looked down to that place above her chest again, and she unthinkingly raised a hand to her neck, trying to figure out what he was staring at. When she touched the skin in question, she flinched as she felt a tenderness she hadn't expected. Poking at the skin, she realized something was wrong. Snape visibly swallowed as she looked up at him questioningly, then tentatively backed away to walk into the bathroom, to inspect herself in the mirror.

Snape heard her gasp of surprise, and grimaced in response. His hand tugged at his face as he tried to figure out what to tell her.

"I'm hurt!" she cried, straining her neck to get a full view of the large bruise that marred her pale skin, extending all the way down her neck to the join of her shoulder. "How did this happen?"

She walked back out to face him, clutching her mark protectively.

"Did Nina do this?" she asked, with a look of fear.

Severus was staring at the floor as he rubbed the back of his neck.

"I suppose," he mumbled, avoiding her eyes, "she does tend to get into a fair share of trouble."

"What do you mean?" Hermione pressed, her voice weak. "Did she try to fight you or something?"

Severus looked up at that, wondering if he detected concern for _him _in her tone. _Was she really so naive?_

"We have had... altercations..." he replied, looking away again, "though nothing serious has transpired." His conscience ached at that last remark.

Hermione took several steps closer to him, nursing her neck all the while.

"What has she done?" she asked, fearing that this personality might be less stable than he led her to believe. "I didn't... I mean, she didn't hurt you, did she?"

Severus closed his eyes as her small voice spoke those misguided words, feeling like every bit the slimy git that he knew he'd been. _She_ was feeling guilty, for _his _sake. What a mess.

"Miss Granger," he spoke, looking at her imploringly, "you are not responsible for anything that happens when Nina takes over... you and she do not share the same motivations. Neither of you are aware of or in control of the other. You do realize this, don't you?"

Hermione looked up at him with uncertainty, and the worry in her eyes was crushing to behold.

"I hate this, Professor," she whispered a little harshly, holding back tears, "I don't like not being in control of my own mind and body. I don't like having someone else take over, someone I can't trust... I don't like the idea that I might do something I'd regret, and wouldn't be able to stop it."

She was shaking slightly as she stood there, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as her eyes threatened to spill over in unshed tears. She looked up at her professor nervously.

"You would tell me, wouldn't you? If anything important happened while I was... away?"

As her tears finally fell, something broke in Severus' chest and he reached out gently to pull her to him, lightly wrapping his arms around her shoulders as she breathed in a whimpering breath, willing herself not to cry. She stiffened in his arms, completely shocked that he was touching her; she didn't think he was the type to offer physical comfort. As he rubbed soothing circles over her back, he replied, "Some things are better left unsaid... I can only tell you what you need to know; what you need in order to get better. It would be irresponsible for me to allow you to worry over things that are beyond your control."

She pushed away from him then and fixed him with a fierce stare, shaking her head as she struggled to form a response.

"But that's ridiculous!" she protested, "You can't mean that! How can I 'get better' if I'm left in the dark all the time? I need to know what's going on, Professor! I need to know so that I can figure out how to fix this!"

Severus' face scrunched up as he listened to her outburst, his hands gripping her shoulders as he urged her to understand his dilemma.

"Please, I know this is difficult for you; you're in a very awkward position, and I understand your concern. But I also understand the difference between a counterproductive action and a necessary action, and I can assure you that filling you in on all of Nina's unsavory proclivities would be counterproductive."

Backing further away so that his hands fell from her shoulders, she demanded, "So she has done something, then? Something 'unsavory'?" When Snape only thinned his lips in response, she pushed, "Why won't you tell me? Do you really think it's better that I sit around wondering what she might've done, getting all kinds of far-fetched ideas in my head, instead of actually understanding the truth about what this person gets up to when she _takes over my mind and body_? How is that _helping_ me?"

Severus turned away from her with a short sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose, his other hand high on his hip.

"...Or is that not the only reason you won't tell me?" she asked quietly, "Is it something embarrassing?"

He froze for a moment before looking down at her with tense features, alarmed when her intelligent eyes roamed over his face appraisingly. Hermione's hand strayed up to her neck again as she scrutinized the man in front of her, struggling to understand him. Unbidden, a memory of her dark dream passed through her thoughts as she recalled the terror she'd experienced upon waking. She'd been afraid of _him_, questioning what kind of man he was; what he was capable of. _It was only a nightmare, wasn't it?_

Severus could clearly see the fear in her eyes as she gazed at him, and he panicked, thinking she might've figured it out. _Surely she knew what a hickey looked like? _Though, to be fair, it was one hell of a hickey... it looked more like he'd mauled her than like the remnants of a moment of tender passion. He hadn't meant to be so rough. And he certainly hadn't meant to leave a mark. _Gods, what would she think of him?_

"Does it hurt?" he asked in a small voice as she continued to nurse her mysterious wound. Her eyes narrowed at him for a moment before she answered.

"It's a little sore," she murmured. All at once he realized that she might've been sore in more than one place, had he managed to complete the act that had been so fortunately cut short. He paled at the thought, and turned to produce his wand as he conjured a bruise paste.

"Here... sit," he instructed, ushering her toward the sofa, as she reluctantly complied. She watched in confusion as he sat down beside her stiffly, then gently pulled her hand away from her neck as he dipped his fingers into the jar, scooping up a small portion of the salve and applying it carefully to her tender flesh. Her eyes were flashing with suspicion as she watched him, wondering why he was insisting on doing it himself when she could easily tend to her own needs. He looked almost penitent as he rubbed in the ointment, grimacing when she flinched as he touched the most sensitive place, then caressing the skin around the spot in surprisingly tender strokes with a sad kind of look in his eyes before resealing the jar and vanishing it. He rose from the sofa with definite heaviness as he made his way back to the kitchen to rinse off his fingers, then stared out the window for a long moment as he idly dried his hands with a dish towel. Hermione stayed in place on the sofa, her brows furrowed and lips slightly pursed as she considered his every movement, remembering the softness of his touch with intense curiosity. _What was that all about?_

Eventually, Snape broke out of his reverie and set about preparing tea. Hermione wasn't finished with him, but decided to give him a break since she still hadn't freshened up since emerging from the bedroom. Walking tentatively into the bathroom, she looked around to try and identify what might belong to her. There were two toothbrushes in a cup on the counter; one yellow, one green. Assuming the green was his, she took up the yellow one, running it under hot water for awhile just in case. As she brushed her teeth, she glanced at the bruises on her neck and shoulder join, noticing that they had already faded considerably. For some reason, this bothered her — the evidence was disappearing; evidence of some incident she was sure he knew more about than he was willing to explain. She wadded up some toilet tissue and wiped away the residual salve, hoping to slow the healing process. She didn't want him to get off that easily.

Still feeling grimy after waking up in a cold sweat, Hermione decided to take a bath. She needed to brush out her hair first, and searched the bathroom for the hairbrush she'd used earlier as the tub filled with warm water. The brush was missing.

Severus looked up from his tea as she crossed the living room to search the bedroom for the missing brush. "I've prepared some tea—" he offered, "straight with lemon, correct?"

"Not now," Hermione muttered, "I want to take a bath."

Severus turned away to hide his frown, disappointed that his little gesture had been refused. When Hermione reemerged from the bedroom looking flustered, he asked her what was the matter.

"I can't find the hairbrush," she muttered. Severus recalled Nina brushing out her hair the day before, and glanced toward the side table. Hermione followed his gaze, surprised to find the brush in his line of sight. _How did he know where to find it? _

Hermione furrowed her brow and walked briskly to retrieve the brush, flashing him a look of suspicion before returning to the bathroom. Severus just raised an eyebrow and turned back to his tea with a frown, spotting the flask he'd abandoned earlier on the counter. He lifted it to find it still had a sip or two left in it... considering it for a moment, he sighed deeply before pouring the remainder down the drain.

* * *

><p>Severus looked up from the table when Hermione reemerged, crossing to the bedroom without looking at him, a towel wrapped around her head and her bathrobe clutched tightly around her. She closed the door firmly behind her, leaving Severus to sit awkwardly as he waited for her. He was hungry, but decided not to eat without her.<p>

When Hermione returned, she was wearing a formidable expression as she approached Severus. He tensed as he wondered what her problem was this time.

"Can I borrow your wand?" she demanded. It wasn't phrased as a question. Severus tried not to look too insulted.

"_What... for...?_" he inquired, drawing out his response with typical dramatization.

"A very simple spell," she huffed, her hand impatiently outstretched, "it will just take a second."

Severus eyed her warily, uncertain he trusted her not to try to pull something on him. He knew he owed her, and he didn't like feeling beholden to someone. At any other time he certainly would have denied such a request, at least until she made her intentions clear. Under the circumstances, however...

Hermione looked impatient as he produced his wand with great hesitancy, before setting it lightly in her outstretched palm. She met his eyes for a moment as her fingers closed around it, then turned around sharply and addressed the empty room, _"Accio cargo trousers!"_

Severus' eyes widened in surprise as a pair of crumpled trousers hurdled toward Hermione, who reached out to grab them in satisfaction as she handed back the wand with a smug expression. Without a word, she marched back to the bedroom and shut the door behind her, leaving Severus to consider the little war between Nina and Hermione with some discomfort. The last place he wanted to be was in the middle of those two, when they were in a snit.

* * *

><p>When Hermione finally joined him at the table, Severus was surprised to find her wearing the dusty pink camisole with her trousers. The look suited her, though he might've preferred to see her in a t-shirt again, since the top did nothing to hide the still-fading bruises on her. If anything, the cut of the thin-strapped top seemed to <em>highlight<em> the mark— the light color contrasting with the deep bruise. He wondered at that, squinting his eyes at her as she poured herself a cup of tea.

"I waited for you before preparing breakfast," he eventually spoke, "how would you like your eggs?"

"I'm not hungry," she replied, not looking at him as she squeezed her lemon. Severus regarded her critically for a moment, annoyed that he'd paid her the courtesy. He rose from the table to prepare his own eggs, leaving her to glance up at him surreptitiously as she stirred her tea. In fact, she was rather hungry; she was reluctant to eat with him, however. She hadn't forgiven him for being so withholding earlier of a disclosure that she believed she was fully entitled to. She felt like he was keeping secrets from her that weren't his to keep.

The smell of his cooking breakfast set her stomach to growling, so she decided to drink her tea on the front porch to hide her appetite from him. The day was becoming quite warm already, and she kept to the shade as she sipped at her hot drink, setting it aside to let it cool down. Scanning the area, she noticed something dark and shiny glinting in the sun in the dirt to the far right of the porch. She stepped closer to get a better look, cocking her head in curiosity as she found a handheld radio lying there, with two batteries beside it. _What a strange place to leave a radio lying around_, she thought as she returned to the shade, leaving the bizarre discovery in place. Before she sat down, she noticed a fluttering movement in her peripheral vision at the other end of the porch. She approached to find a discarded magazine, its pages turning in the slight breeze. She bent to pick it up, stopping short when her eyes took in the sight of a naked pair of breasts. _Oh, God— it was one of those pornographic magazines she'd seen lying around the house..._ She wondered who had been reading it. _Did Snape sit out here reading these things? _She cautiously squatted next to it, peering at it curiously as she flipped the page at the very corner, afraid to touch it. The next page featured the same woman from the last, this time bent over a table and exposing every detail of her voluptuous backside, her breasts grazing the tabletop as she looked over her shoulder toward the camera with a needy expression. Hermione bit her lip and scrunched her brow as she wondered why anyone would allow themselves to be photographed in such a position. A creaking sound behind her caused her heart to leap up into her throat as she quickly pushed the magazine over the edge of the porch, her face coloring as she shot up and turned around with wide eyes to find Snape stepping out to join her with two plates of food.

"I went ahead and fixed some extra eggs and toast, in case you changed your mind," he said as he glanced behind her, wondering what he'd just interrupted. Her face was flushed and she was breathing irregularly.

"Is everything alright?" he asked.

"I'm fine," she answered shortly, staring back at him defiantly as he eyed her curiously before sitting down on his stoop in the doorway. He set the other plate down beside him, gesturing to it with a look of invitation as she considered it stubbornly before letting her shoulders slump as she gave in to her hunger.

"Thank you," she muttered, picking it up and taking it to the other end of the porch, where she'd left her tea. The two ate in silence, Snape occasionally glancing toward the end where he'd found her, wondering what had her so agitated.

After she'd finished her food and pushed her plate away, Hermione turned to Snape with a look tinged with guilt, suspicion and sadness. He braced himself for whatever she was preparing to say.

"I want to trust you, Professor," she said quietly, looking down as she slumped against the side of the house with her legs stretched out in front of her. "I don't see how we're going to get anywhere if I don't... but you're not making it easy for me."

Severus' thoughts worked rapidly as he wondered what exactly she was accusing him of. "What, specifically, have I done to make you doubt me, Miss Granger?" he calmly replied. She looked up at him with a small amount of frustration.

"You're keeping things from me," she said flatly, "things I ought to know. I know you think you have your reasons, but I don't agree with you. You have to start talking to me if we're going to get anywhere, otherwise what else are we going to do but sit around drinking tea and scowling at each other?"

"I haven't been scowling at you," he countered.

"You know what I mean," she insisted. "We're not making any progress this way. You have to start taking risks; there's no other way."

Severus considered her words, reluctantly agreeing with her. They really weren't making any kind of progress. Though he had gotten Nina to at least become marginally more aware of her own magic potential, Hermione (or this version of her) was still stuck in the same position. She still couldn't access her recent memories, and was still behaving like her 16-year-old self. Perhaps that was where he needed to start; perhaps he needed to stop treating her like a child... to stop protecting her. As much as the idea pained him to consider, he realized it might be in her best interest to tell her some of the harsh facts he'd been keeping from her. He sighed heavily before looking toward her, though not meeting her eyes.

"Perhaps you're right," he murmured. "There are things you probably should know, though they won't be easy to hear."

Hermione sat up straighter as she replied, "I understand; please tell me, anyway..."

Severus took a deep breath and looked at her in quiet assessment, recognizing the innocent young girl that had once sat in his classroom in a time that now seemed so long ago... and yet here she was before him again, all eagerness and determination, looking to him for answers. _Was this the last time he'd see her like this? Was he about to destroy what remained of that girl? _His heart ached at the thought. He really didn't want to hurt her any more than he already had. There was nothing for it; it had to be done. Summoning his familiar persona, he prepared to be as brutal as the situation demanded. She might hate him for it, but it wasn't as if he didn't deserve it.

"I told you that you were sold as a slave before you were obliviated. But I didn't tell you the specifics. The slave traders ran an underground operation that specialized in the transport of Muggle-borns, moving them between countless destinations to be exploited _sexually._ They catered to a particularly nasty range of clientele, all of whom took great pleasure in abusing girls like yourself, as well as some boys. What you must've endured before you escaped into the Muggle sex market must've been quite horrific. You would've been raped, repeatedly. ...that is how Nina emerged. She is a product of that world, and she has only ever known that kind of lifestyle. I believe that she learned how to act like she enjoyed it; how to use her skills to her advantage. She can be very... persuasive. She sees all men through the same lens; the only lens she's ever known. She knows how to manipulate. I don't think she understands motivations that aren't sexually based."

Snape paused to glance up at her then, closing his eyes when he saw the desolate look on her face. _He'd caused this; he made this happen..._

"I'm the one that did this to you," he added in a broken voice. "It was my plan. I suggested this course of action to the Dark Lord, to prevent your execution. I failed to prevent it from going too far. I let you get away."

Hermione was shaking her head, tears falling down her face as she sat silently with her legs pulled up to her chest.

"Do you understand, Granger?" he pushed, "It was _my_ fault. I saved your life by destroying it... I turned you into a—"

"_Don't say it!"_ she suddenly cried, looking up at him desperately, "It's not true!"

Snape looked at her in astonishment, cringing at the sound of her denial.

"I'm so sorry, but it's the truth..."

"No!" she shouted, fixing him with an intense glare as she rose to her feet, "It can't be; I'm still a virgin!"

Severus looked utterly disconsolate in the face of her denial, rising to approach her as she backed away from him.

"No, sweetheart," he choked out, his voice catching, "not anymore."

She shrugged him off when he attempted to pull her in to comfort her, pushing past him violently.

"It isn't true," she sobbed, gripping her head as it ached miserably, "there's been a mistake."

"I told you it would be difficult to hear this," he nearly whispered, "I can give you a calming draught if it would help..."

"I don't want a calming draught," she cried, "I don't want to listen to you, and I don't want to stay here any longer! I want to go home! I want to go back to Hogwarts!"

"You can't," he told her, "not yet; they won't be able to help you there..."

"You're not helping me here!" she insisted, "Why are you keeping me here? Why are we alone? Why won't you let me leave?"

Severus looked conflicted as he tried to form an answer, reaching out to rub the tears from her cheek before she flinched away viciously, leaving his hand to fall away dejectedly.

"I can't tell you everything, Hermione," he whispered, "You just have to trust me."

"How can I?" she sobbed, rubbing the moisture from her eyes before wrapping her arms around herself protectively as she backed away from him, "How can you ask me to?" she whispered harshly.

Severus just stared at her with a world of pain reflected in his dark eyes, and the sight was nearly enough to thaw her heart towards him; _nearly_, but still not enough. With a trembling lip, she fled into the house and back to her room, releasing a flood of tears and cries of anguish the moment she closed the door behind her.

After standing in place and shivering as he listened to her cries slowly fade away into gentle sobs, Severus pulled his hands through his hair as he wandered to the far end of the porch, looking quite lost and lonely. A movement on the ground caught his attention, and he glanced down to find the discarded porn magazine fluttering in the breeze. _So that's what had upset her, _he realized. He drew his wand and incinerated the glossy paper with a deep frown, staring at it with glazed eyes as the last of the embers burnt out.


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25

_**A/N: Sorry to leave you guys with such a bummer of a chapter last time; it's important to feel the contrast between 23 and 24. But, oh! Ye of little faith! Don't give up hope just yet! There are such sweet surprises in store... have patience—it will be rewarded! But in the meantime...**_

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><p>Hermione cried until she exhausted herself, laying limply on her bed while little sobbing aftershocks trembled through her as her breathing slowly steadied. She listened to the strange sound of her own voice as tiny moans escaped her from time to time that seemed to arise from somewhere beyond her, as if her body was possessed by a grief all its own. When these subsided, there was only the sound of her labored breaths and sniffling, and the gentle noise was oddly comforting to focus on. At one point she had heard another noise— very quiet— outside her door, followed by the almost imperceptible sound of footsteps softly retreating.<p>

She turned her face into her tangled sheets and sighed deeply as she considered the man outside. Had she been unfair to him? Hadn't he only told her what she wanted to hear when she insisted on knowing the truth? She couldn't remember exactly what she had said to him afterward, and she wondered if she had hurt him. Though part of her might've wanted to argue that he deserved it, the greater part was deeply troubled by the idea. Hadn't he been kind to her? Hadn't he broken character; gone against his natural inclinations; gone out of his way to be gentle? At least, she _assumed_ his natural character was in line with that of the man she knew from the classroom; _that _man wasn't the comforting type... _who was he, really? _

There was a great possibility that there was more to his story than she knew about. She had no idea what he'd been doing all this time, while she was apparently— _NO. _..._best not to think about that right now, _she told herself as anxiety gripped her, another shuddering sob wracking her tired body. _Why was he trying to help her?_ Was it just the guilt of letting her get away? He did seem particularly determined to succeed, against the odds. She still wasn't sure why he was keeping her here by himself... where was the rest of the Order? She wondered if there was more going on back home than he'd told her about... was it not safe to go back? If there was a war on, she wanted to help; she couldn't imagine how Ron and Harry were getting along without her. Surely they needed her. ...but then again, how much help could she be to them, as she was? She wasn't stable; not with 'Nina' breaking through periodically and taking over. There was every chance that Nina would ruin everything, should she be let loose in the wizarding world. Snape had mentioned how wizarding society was ill-equipped to treat head cases responsibly... there would probably be few outlets for someone in her condition. What if no one there could help her? Would she have to live in the Muggle world? Be treated by Muggle doctors, taking Muggle medications? _...what if they put her in a mental institution?_

Hermione shuddered at the thought, suddenly very afraid of the prospect of returning home before she was fixed. Maybe Snape knew what he was doing. Maybe she needed to put more faith in him. At this point, she probably didn't have a better option.

Rolling onto her side, she stared out into the empty bedroom, blinking as her blurry eyes focused on the shabby wall across from her. This place sure didn't have much to recommend itself. Without any of her books at her disposal, Hermione had little to distract herself from the monotony of her dismal surroundings... that is, aside from her hopelessly tragic situation — which she didn't want to think about at that moment — and Snape, of course. Snape. Snape, Snape, Snape. He certainly was a prominent figure in her life at present. He had always been featured quite strikingly in her thoughts, though she'd never focused on him as intensely as she had been lately. Her situation demanded that she give the man her full attention, and part of her was a little nervous about this. As she chewed on her lower lip, she recognized that this situation had the potential to turn very problematic, very fast. She was a sensible sort of girl, but that didn't mean that her heart wasn't vulnerable to wild ideas and irrational fixations. If she was completely honest with herself, she would have to admit that she might've entertained an irrational notion or two regarding the man back before all of this started... and now... _now,_ she gulped...

Now, he'd called her 'sweetheart'...

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><p><em>Maybe she was right. <em>Severus knew he wasn't the best person to console her at a time like this; he just wasn't any good at it. He was of the 'tough love' variety, and it worked well when dealing with his Slytherins... _though he'd certainly never had to console a Slytherin at such a time as this_... and Hermione was no Slytherin. She was all Griffindor; all tenderheartedness and sentimentality, passion and spirit. And he had broken hers.

He wondered if she would be better off among her friends and family, even if it meant potentially losing her forever. To bring her back to them would be to essentially give her up; to hand her over to the care of others, whose chances of helping her couldn't be much better than his... could they possibly be as committed, as devoted to her as he was now— especially with all that was happening? After all, hadn't _he _been the one to find her, when the others failed? It was _his _persistence, his tenacity, his _intelligence _that persevered. How could he be sure they wouldn't fail her this time? He couldn't be. They weren't to be trusted, not after everything that had transpired. He couldn't give her up to them; not when he'd finally found her after all this time...

But then, he hadn't truly found her... not _his _Hermione— the brave, foolish girl who had sacrificed herself for him— the only person ever to have committed a selfless act for his sake... that girl was still missing. He wanted her back more than he'd wanted anything in a long, long time, and she'd be lost to him forever if he gave up now. Was he being selfish? ...probably. Either way, he was running out of time. Better to keep trying while he still had the chance, before his past caught up with him. If these were to be his last days, he might as well try to make them as worthwhile as possible... didn't he owe her that much?

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><p>It was a long time before Hermione ventured out of the bedroom, her face still splotchy and her eyes swollen as she glanced out into the living room, thankfully finding it empty. She crossed to the bathroom and cleaned herself up before sighing at her sorry reflection, then stepped out morosely to get herself a glass of water. Her throat was dry and sore, and her limbs ached from overexertion. She thought about taking another bath just to soak in, though the idea seemed wastefully extravagant.<p>

When she hadn't heard any sign of Snape, she went looking for him on the porch. He wasn't there, either, so she tugged on the canvas sneakers she found near the doorway and strolled around the perimeter, wondering where he'd gone off to. _Did he want to be left alone? Had she really upset him? _She clutched her water glass to her chest as she stood by the side of the house, looking worried. A flash of color caught her attention, and she glanced to the left to see the pink bikini she remembered from earlier hanging from the outdoor shower head. Her brows furrowed as she approached it curiously, reaching out and finding the material slightly damp. _Had Nina showered in it? _Perhaps she'd been modest, not wanting to stand around outdoors in the nude, and had used the shower to get relief from the heat... it seemed plausible. _Why did the idea still bother her a little?_

Hermione turned away with a tiny frown, confused by the elusive resentment she was feeling. She must've still been emotionally vulnerable after her crying episode, and was prone to irrational sensitivity. She walked away from the shower to continue her search, hoping to distract herself with her concern for her missing Professor.

She had nearly given up hope of finding him as she came upon the empty shed, turning away from it with a sigh before a movement in the distance caught her eye. She squinted to see an imposing figure trudging along, head down as he cut a slow, meandering path back toward the house. Hermione watched him as she moved back toward the porch, worrying her lip as he continued along at a loitering pace, apparently lost in thought as he slowed now and then to poke at objects with his foot, his thumbs pulling at his trouser pockets while his lank hair fell across his face. For the first time since she'd been here, she noticed that it was quite a bit longer than she remembered it; she wondered if this was by choice, or if he just hadn't taken the time to cut it.

Sitting down at the edge of the porch to watch his approach, she drank slowly from her water glass, idly drawing circles in the dirt with the toe of her shoe.

As he cleared a large section of brush, Snape paused suddenly as he glanced up and noticed Hermione waiting for him. She saw his pace falter, and looked down self-consciously as she drew a wider circle in the dirt, leaning forward as her hands gripped the side of the porch. He swallowed as he summoned his courage and moved toward her, uncertain as to how things stood between them now. When his shadow intersected the circle she was retracing as he stopped in front of her, she looked up at him with a small, forced smile, nervousness clearly visible in her puffy eyes. He stared at her for a long moment in silence, concern showing through despite his stony facade.

Hermione took a deep breath as her eyes flashed between his before lowering her gaze, her arms twisting inward as she rocked forward stiffly, not knowing what to say to him. Finally, she spoke quietly, "I didn't know where you went."

He studied her for a moment before replying, "I just went for a walk. ...I wouldn't leave you alone," he added, hoping he hadn't worried her.

"It's fine," she assured him, not meeting his eyes, "I'm sure I'd be alright if you did."

"...Did you want me to?" he asked self-consciously, "Do you want to be alone?"

"No," she hastily responded, looking up at him quickly before averting her eyes, "I mean, either way, I'm alright. ...I was only curious when I couldn't find you anywhere."

Severus exhaled a breath he didn't know he'd been holding as he looked away from her, squinting as he scanned the horizon.

"I think I'll take a shower now," he muttered. "Can I trust you to stay away from that side of the house until I've finished?"

"Of course," Hermione replied with slight indignation, looking up at him with scrunched features, "I wouldn't infringe on your privacy..."

Severus raised an eyebrow as he looked down at her speculatively, noticing the slight flush to her cheeks. He felt a little sorry for embarrassing her, and nodded shortly before walking away. She crossed her arms as he left, blunting her dirt circle with short kicks as she let the offensive remark pass.

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><p>Pulling his shirt off as he toed out of his shoes and stepped onto the wooden platform of the shower, Severus noticed the flash of pink adorning the shower head. He regarded the material with a conflicted expression as he tossed the sweaty shirt over the side partition and started unfastening his trousers, trying not to rouse his libido as he unwillingly recalled the eager body that had filled the tiny garment the night before. Stepping out of his pants, he glanced up warily at the insidious little scraps of fabric, folding his slacks and draping them alongside his shirt as he turned toward the bubblegum pink deathtrap like a carp to a lure, reaching out to fondle it despite himself. <em>Still damp. <em>Enraptured, he stroked a long thumb down the front of the briefs, recalling the sleek feel of the material underwater as he'd touched her. _Gods, she'd been so hot; so unbelievably slick..._

Severus suddenly pulled his hand back as he became aware of his throbbing erection, cursing as he unleashed the cold water with a violent twist, gritting his teeth as he immersed himself in the chilly downpour, catching mouthfuls of it and spitting them out as his racing blood cooled down, until he was at last able to scrub at his skin with the bar of soap without provoking the urge to spend an improper amount of time lathering his genitals. All the while that damnable bikini dangled before him brazenly, and it took far too much of his willpower not to hex the thing to oblivion.

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><p>As Severus walked back from his shower half-dressed, he was surprised to find Hermione still sitting on the porch. She froze when she saw him approaching bare-chested, rubbing his wet hair with a towel, his dirty shirt slung over his shoulder. She didn't realize she was staring until she met his eyes as he arched an eyebrow at her, causing her to blush and look away as he sauntered indoors to get a fresh shirt, smirking to himself as he crossed the threshold.<p>

He reemerged fully-dressed with his long hair dampening the back of his shirt, enjoying the slight relief it offered from the oppressive heat. He frowned when he noticed the radio in Hermione's lap, remembering all the trouble the blasted thing had caused.

"It doesn't work," she muttered, looking up at him as he sat beside her, "the batteries must be dead."

"No," he sighed, "the animation charm wore off. I can reset it for you if you'd like."

"You charmed it to work?" she asked, looking at him in surprise.

"At Nina's request," he answered, not wanting to go into the full story.

"Oh," she murmured, looking down at it again with the sudden feeling that she was trespassing.

He noticed her discomfort, squinting at her before he continued, "Even so, it's still difficult to get a decent signal around here; Nina found that it only really worked when she took it up onto the roof."

Hermione glanced up, open-mouthed, as she imagined climbing onto the rickety roof with the radio in tow. "You let me climb up there?" she asked quietly, a little wary of the thought.

"I wasn't comfortable with the idea," Severus countered defensively, "but Nina tends to do as she pleases."

Hermione looked at him contemplatively, and her quiet assessment unnerved him.

"Your hair's longer than I remember it being," she commented in an offhand way, surprising him with the turn of conversation.

"So is yours," he noted softly. Her eyes met his before she raised a hand to her hair self-consciously, toying with a strand.

"Yes," she replied, "I noticed that, too." She suddenly thought of the _other_ changes she'd noticed about her person, and flushed as she dropped her eyes and fidgeted with the radio again.

"You could cut it, if you'd like," he suggested, and her eyes widened as she looked to him in surprise.

"You'd let me cut your hair?" she asked incredulously.

Severus' eyes now widened as he realized her mistake. "I meant you could cut _your own_ hair—" he corrected, "you don't need Nina's permission."

"Oh," she answered, sounding disappointed, "I know that... But I kind of like it the way it is."

Severus nodded, silently admitting that he liked it, as well. He was disheartened by the way her shoulders had slumped, and it occurred to him that she might actually have been excited by the idea of cutting his hair for him. Though the intimacy of such an act terrified him, he wondered if letting her do it would strengthen her trust in him, bridging the gulf that was currently separating them. The Slytherin in him recognized the tactical advantage, though the private man was reluctant to go to such lengths for the sake of maintaining an alliance. _At any rate, it might make her happy._ With a deep sigh, he looked down as he murmured, "I _would_ let you cut my hair, if you're so inclined."

She looked at him again in astonishment, nearly smiling as she tried to tell if he was in earnest. "Do you _want_ a hair cut?" she asked quietly.

"It could probably benefit from a trim at least," he muttered, crossing his arms tightly across his chest.

"It does look rather unkempt," she agreed, "I do _know_ _how _to cut hair, by the way. I'd do a good job of it..."

"If you say so," he replied, suppressing the compulsion to fault her for being a know-it-all.

"Shall I fetch some scissors?" she asked, setting aside the radio as she perked up.

"There's some shears in one of the kitchen drawers," he said, resigned now to his fate.

"Alright," she answered, rising up jubilantly as she took off toward the kitchen. "Why don't you pull a chair out here, and drape a towel around your shoulders," she suggested, hurrying off to sift through drawers until she found the shears, then darting into the bathroom to fetch the black comb from the cabinet. Her chest heaved with excitement as she suppressed a big smile, hardly believing she'd been granted permission to perform such a task. _Snape must really want to set things right between them if he was allowing this!_

Severus set the kitchen chair in the middle of the porch, hardly believing he was about to go through with this. For many years, there was only one person he entrusted the care of his hair to: a decrepit old wizarding barber named Earle, whom he patronized exclusively because he knew the man needed the business, and, most importantly, because the man had the decency not to try and chat him up while servicing him. A quiet barber was a rare commodity, and he had no intention of straying from old Earle so long as the wizard had enough life left in him to sustain his dilapidated business. Yet here he was, committing his first act of infidelity after countless years of loyalty — and with _Miss Hermione Granger_, no less. Certainly any chance of her not chattering away throughout the procedure would be too much to hope for.

"Well? Sit down, then," she spoke from behind him, startling him as he turned to find her standing straight and tall in the doorway with a pair of shears held up in one hand and a comb in the other. _Merlin, this was really happening. _

Snape turned and sat down tensely, looking like he was about to be executed. Hermione took a steadying breath as she approached him, suddenly quite nervous about what she was about to do. _She would be touching him, _she realized. Severus heard her swallow as she stood behind him, tensing further as he sensed her trepidation. It wouldn't do to have her fumbling about with scissors if her hands were unsteady. _What had he gotten himself into?_

He nearly jumped as he felt her hand gently stroke a strand of hair before running the comb through it, working carefully as she encountered some tangles at the ends, delicately combing through them as she worked her way around his head. He eventually started relaxing as he yielded to her gentle touch, breathing deeply as she silently tended to every strand. His eyes were closed as she stood to his side and finished combing out the front portion, her lips slightly pursed in concentration. As he heard the first slice of the scissors, his eyes flew open as he looked to her uncertainly. She smiled a soft smile of reassurance before turning her attention back to her task. She worked diligently — and remarkably quietly — as she slowly circled him, stepping back from time to time to check her precision, sometimes gently repositioning his head as he became surprisingly sedate, leaning back into the chair and allowing her to do as she would without stressing over the outcome. If she mutilated him, there was nothing he could do about it now. He might as well sit back and enjoy the attention. It occurred to him that he never got this warm feeling he was presently experiencing whenever Earle touched his hair; for some reason, he was receiving an unprecedented amount of contentment from Hermione's touch, to the degree that the experience had turned rather indulgent... he soon found that he didn't want it to end...

He looked up at her with soft eyes as she stood in front of him, lightly tugging on the front portions at the side of his face as she made tiny adjustments, glancing at him now and again as he watched her closely. As she continued clipping away bit by bit— nearly stroking him as she rearranged the same portions of hair again and again, worrying her lip as she met his warm gaze before looking away quickly— he wondered if she was intentionally drawing out this last part. His eyes flicked back to the lip tugged between her teeth, and he bittersweetly recalled the way that very lip had tasted between his own. Before he could dwell on the thought, she backed away from him to survey her work, carefully scrutinizing the hair that now hung neatly just past his shoulders. It wasn't too much shorter than it had been, but it was decidedly less scraggly. She smiled in approval, looking to him shyly as he brushed some hair off of his lap.

"All finished?" he asked, and she could've sworn she'd heard a note of disappointment in his voice.

She nodded her head in response, biting the inside of her lip as she gave a little smile of apprehension.

"Well?" he asked, carefully removing the hair-covered towel from his shoulders as he rose from the chair, "Do you see any improvement? Or have you made me look ridiculous to spite me?" he teased. His eyes warmed as she let out a little laugh in response.

"No, sir, I wouldn't abuse your trust like that," she smiled, stepping toward him to brush off some clippings from his chest, "you look perfectly dapper, now. Not quite so shabby."

Hermione stilled as his hand rose to hers, pressing it lightly to his chest as he waited for her to look him in the eyes. Her breath caught as she took in his expression.

"Thank you, Hermione," he said in a deep voice, "you've done a fine job."

"...You haven't even seen it yet," she almost whispered back to him, trying to make sense of the look in his eyes. Her heart palpitated wildly as she wondered if he intended to kiss her.

Severus stared back at her for a long moment, his face changing as he took in her frightened expression. He watched her swallow nervously, and he released her hand as he backed away.

"I shall remedy that immediately," he said with a smirk that didn't match his eyes, turning abruptly to head towards the bathroom. Hermione watched him with wide eyes as he retreated, her breaths coming unsteadily as she tried to shake the insane idea from her muddled head. _He hadn't wanted to kiss her, _she reassured herself, _he was only being thankful for a job well done... _

Her mouth twisted as she turned away and looked down to the mess of hair on the floor, distracting herself from her errant thoughts by meticulously scooping handfuls of clippings into the towel, then shaking them out in the bushes. She swept the towel over the chair before picking it up to carry inside, startled when it was lifted away from her by Snape, who looked at her strangely before averting his eyes, then turned to carry the chair back to the kitchen.

"You did well, Granger," he said softly over his shoulder, "I'm quite pleased."

_So it was back to 'Granger' then, _she sighed, despite her pleasure at having finally heard words of genuine praise from the perennial critic. She smiled to herself as she considered how very strange it all was; that— after all her sweating over potions and laboring over carefully-worded essays— it took a _haircut _of all things to finally hear him express approval for her effort.

Shaking her head in disbelief, she carefully folded the hair-covered towel and hugged it gently to her chest as she marveled at how close he'd let her get to him. What a confusing, implausible, _fascinating_ man...


	26. Chapter 26

_**A/N: O readers, I have wronged you. Please forgive the inexcusable hiatus as I attempt to resume this story. It is my ardent wish that I will finish it in a timely manner, but I can make no promises. I can, however, assure you that more updates are forthcoming; your reviews and encouragement would be more than helpful in that regard, as your continued interest (however undeserved!) would certainly prove motivational. In the meantime...**_

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><p>Chapter 26<p>

.

Three days had passed before Severus saw Nina again. Of course, he still _saw _her every day: he saw her eyes on Hermione's face, though they never glanced at him suggestively— not once— not even when he returned from his evening showers with damp hair hanging heavily around his shoulders, darkening the fabric of his t-shirt. Nina had always watched him hungrily at such times, making him distinctly uncomfortable. Now he found himself irrationally missing her not-so-subtle glances, and when he sought them in Hermione, he seemed only to discomfit her when she caught him looking at her expectantly. She didn't understand his curious expectation, and his subsequent air of disappointment. And certainly, he didn't either. This often left the both of them slightly confused.

There was something else Severus sought in the eyes that were Nina's but somehow weren't: disappointment. He expected judgement; he required it, even. After what had happened (or, more precisely, _hadn't _happened) between them at the grotto, Severus was certain the dynamics between them had changed, and assumed that Nina would now consider him somewhat less (_if not entirely less_) suitable as a lover. Although he had meant to foster such an opinion in her from the beginning, the circumstances which surely must've changed her opinion were far from ideal, and left him with the unwanted but persistent desire to redeem himself. He was a proud man, and his pride had taken a heavy blow when he'd been unmanned in front of (_on top of, _he fretted) Nina that night. He still couldn't figure out how it had happened; all recollection seemed indistinct and dreamlike, though he knew it had been quite real. Though the ...interruption... should've been a blessing— considering how much worse it would've been if he'd been able to carry through with her— he still felt cursed by the memory of it. That he couldn't read her reaction and altered feelings in Hermione's eyes made it all the more difficult for him to move past it.

And so he watched her, waiting— always waiting for the look he was sure to find. He had seen it so many times throughout his life that he knew it intimately. It was the look Lily Evans had bestowed upon him more times than he could count when his ham-fisted efforts to woo her fell flat. It was a pitying sort of look of quiet rejection; the look given by someone contemplating the inadequacies of another, finding that they inevitably outweigh any attractive qualities. It was the softly condemning look one gives to someone whose potential is being wasted. He'd seen it a hundred times. Even Albus had looked at him that way on occasion. He had no doubt that he would see that look from Hermione soon enough; it was just a matter of time.

In the meantime, her perpetual look of innocence was driving him slightly mad. If it had been pretense, he could tolerate it, but her genuine naïveté was galling, to say the least. It was baffling that the same young woman who had accosted him so brazenly— who had spoken to him so forwardly with her enticing mannerisms and predatory looks— could now appear so meek and mild before him, completely oblivious to his festering shame. Somehow, in a remarkably short span of time, _he _had become the predator in their erratic relationship, though he tried to suppress the impulse. Now, he found himself watching Hermione in the same way that Nina had often watched him, observing the plump flesh of her lower lip as she chewed on it nervously, and recalling the taste of that same lip as he'd bitten it himself. When he realized the direction his thoughts were taking him, he'd recover quickly by reminding himself that these were someone else's lips; someone who would not appreciate such thoughts from him, and who it was wildly inappropriate to think of in such a way, regardless. _Nina isn't real,_ he'd tell himself, _there is no such person! _There was only Hermione Granger, lost and confused, who needed his help— not his imprudent attentions. He _owed_ her his help; she had sacrificed more for him than he was capable of repaying, and he was doing her no favors by wasting time reminiscing on the taste of her dubiously consenting flesh. He'd never felt more perverse in his life, despite all the horrors he'd committed at Voldemort's behest; at least in those cases he'd had little to no choice in the matter. Though he seriously questioned how much choice he'd experienced around Nina (what _was _her peculiar hold on him?), he couldn't overcome his pressing sense of guilt. Hermione was someone he had neither the right nor the inclination to sexualize, but his interactions with Nina— her unwitting counterpart— had confounded him utterly. He had thought that he might overcome his temporary confusion by rejecting the idea of Nina as an autonomous being—that is to say, by refusing to accept that she was anything more than an expression of Hermione's pathology; something to be cured and rid of. However, such rationalization still couldn't prevent a treacherous part of him from missing her a little bit.

...

"Are you sure about this?" Severus asked, tightly clenching his wand as he faced her.

"Of course;" she replied with forced certainty, "it might not have worked last time, but we just have to keep trying, Professor. I don't know what other option we have..."

She was right, of course — the last three days had been spent dithering around, avoiding the inevitable — but after what he'd seen the last time he rooted around in her mind while she was awake, Severus was in no hurry to return. He also realized there was a good chance his efforts would result in Nina taking over again, and his feelings on this outcome were more than mixed: they were positively entangled.

"I'm ready when you are," she prompted, settling her hands in her lap as she sat up a little straighter on the sofa. Severus steeled himself, silently cursed fate, met her determined gaze, and quietly cast _Legilimens..._

* * *

><p>Once again Severus found himself traversing the now-familiar territory of Hermione's fractured mind, recognizing the same barriers that had defied his earlier attempts at infiltration. These were unchanged, and unyielding as ever without any discernible weak point to be exploited. Somehow, a significant portion of her mind had been sequestered from the rest, though he knew not how or why. He supposed it might've been the work of a skilled Legilimens capable of highly advanced memory charms, but this possibility did not sit well with his intuitive reasoning. <em>Why go through such trouble? <em>he questioned; _what possible purpose could it serve? _— It seemed far more likely to him (though he still couldn't explain it) that this sequestering had happened spontaneously, by Hermione herself, though surely not intentionally. There was an unfamiliar magical component to the barriers; he could tell that much. It wasn't strictly psychological in nature (but then, such anomalies hardly ever were where witches and wizards were concerned). As he gently traced over the strange magical pathways connected to the immovable barriers, he considered the discrepancy between Nina and Hermione's abilities: the amnesic version of Hermione that he had been interacting with for the past few days could still perform magic, but Nina could not. _How was this possible? _

He wondered, not for the first time, where her magic resided while Nina was active. He knew that it wasn't completely closed off, since Nina herself had been able to sense the magic trail leading to the grotto. _Could this have simply been the result of latent but largely inaccessible magical potential, the same kind Muggles themselves were sometimes capable of tapping into? _He supposed it was possible. Still, it seemed too dismissive; despite her ignorance, Nina was not a Muggle. _She's a repressed witch, _Severus insisted, trying to ignore the irony of referring to Nina as "repressed." As he mentally scoffed at the wayward thought, he was surprised by a sudden shock that reverberated against his consciousness simultaneously. He stilled his thoughts as it disappeared as abruptly as it had come, and he waited to see if the strange occurrence would repeat itself.

After a short period of relative quiescence, Severus resumed his investigations. _What was that? _he wondered; _had it happened in response to his own cogitations, or was it an unrelated anomaly from Hermione?_ Recalling his earlier line of thought, he returned to the subject of Nina's repressed magic, sensing a slight, nearly undetectable tingling sort of atmosphere as he considered the idea. _Is Nina's magic repressed? _he asked, unsure of who or what he meant to address. No answer.

He considered the idea further. An irrational idea began forming that he allowed to surface before reflexively filtering it: _is Nina __**herself **__repressed? _Another answering shock passed swiftly before he had a chance to identify its origin — _impossible! —_ _was that an affirmation, _he wondered? It didn't seem to make any sense. _In what way is Nina repressed? Surely not in the traditional sense... _No reply issued forth, though he hardly could've expected one. Still, he suddenly had the odd sensation that he wasn't alone in this space. Of course, Hermione was there, too, but she would only be sensing his presence in her mind vaguely so long as he wasn't reviewing any particular memories while she was conscious. She certainly wouldn't be communicating with him directly, and it was not likely that she would even be able to do so unconsciously. The question then remained, _who, if anyone, was he communicating with? _

Maybe he wasn't; it was possible that the shocks were coincidental, and had nothing to do with his own thought processes. Despite his logical reservations, he decided to try again.

_Repression... magic... sexuality... Nina... Hermione... _

Severus allowed his thoughts to wander as he attempted to gauge any kind of reaction from the enigmatic, charged and potentially sentient atmosphere. He noticed a definite spike in that strange tingling sensation as he dwelled on the idea of Hermione Granger. _Hermione... is Hermione repressed? — An answering shock! — Well, that's to be expected, _he reasoned, _of course Hermione is repressed; she thinks she's still only sixteen, and she can't account for over a year of her life... why the shock, then? _

Severus pursued the reaction aggressively, struggling to replicate the shocking sensation that had just passed through his consciousness again as he reviewed what he thought he knew about Hermione's condition. He was starting to feel slightly foolish for attempting to communicate with a dormant mind when he suddenly became aware of a trickling movement happening peripherally; somehow, without noticing, he had been surrounded by a slowly progressing stream of memories, which were passing his consciousness languidly, almost flirtatiously... _what is this? _he wondered, reflexively backing away carefully, not wanting to trip into any of them, fearing what they might contain; what he might inadvertently release. Hermione's memories, he knew, were far from benign, and he hadn't intended on revisiting any during this session. The memories themselves, however, seemed to have other ideas...

Before Severus could pull out completely from the insidious onslaught, one particularly eager memory managed to wend its way around him, effectively trapping him in its path. He was unavoidably drawn into it, unable to resist its pull as it tugged him, down, down further and further into a shadowy depth of the psyche that he had no desire to inhabit. Here he was confronted with another dark memory, unable to discern his own dread from that which strongly permeated the atmosphere. This was another of Nina's memories. Nina was there before him, but from the composed look on her face he wouldn't have expected the surrounding dread to have issued from her. She seemed uncommonly serene as she undressed before the sinister man reclining on the bed in front of her, undaunted by his ugly leering. Severus scowled darkly at the man, immensely frustrated that he could do no more than watch the scene before him. He knew where this was headed, and he was powerless to prevent it.

"Come over here, sugar," the man drawled, "I'm getting lonely."

Nina responded with a smile that looked almost sincere as she made a show of dropping her discarded brassiere on the floor. She took a few calculated steps towards the bed as she hooked her fingers in the waistband of her thong, cocking her head teasingly at the man.

"We can't have _that_," she cooed, fixing him with a seductive stare as she slowly peeled the flimsy scrap of material over the curve of her backside and down her thighs, watching the man the whole time as he inhaled sharply as he took in the sight. Nina smirked as she stepped out of the panty loops and closer to the bed, seemingly led by her swaying hips as she advanced. Every movement was purposeful; every moment was calculated... Severus was unwillingly impressed by her subtle manipulation. The man was clearly becoming impatient, but she was tempering that impatience through a careful seduction, skillfully controlling the pace of the interaction. As she crawled beside him on the bed, she stroked a sensual caress down the man's exposed chest, expertly deflecting his attempt to pull her atop him as she plied him with promising gestures, only to retreat again surreptitiously. The atmosphere had somehow shifted from one of dread to one of power; an immense, almost overwhelming seductive power that was entirely in Nina's control.

Before Severus had time to contemplate the surprising dynamic further, the man had suddenly gripped Nina's forearms and pushed her roughly onto her back, looming over her obstinately.

"Enough teasing, little bitch," he rasped, gripping her wrists in one strong hand as the other worked to release the fly of his trousers, "no foreplay this time," he grunted. "I'm going to give you the fucking you deserve."

Despite the rapid change of position, Nina only smirked wider. "Yeah?" she coaxed, writhing sensuously beneath the man, "You're gonna fuck me hard?"

"Ooohhhh, you bet I am," the man replied in a low voice as he freed himself from his pants. At the same time, Nina lifted her hips to rub against the man's raging erection.

"Oh yeah?" She continued breathlessly, clearly teasing him. Severus sensed she was laughing at him somehow, though for the life of him he couldn't imagine what the joke was. He saw nothing at all humorous in the situation.

"_Shut up you little bitch_," the man growled, sounding harsher now, moving his other hand to tightly grip her throat, "_You're mine now!_"

At that declaration, the man released her wrists to grip his erection, panting as he shifted to penetrate her. The hand at her throat gripped tighter and she arched her back, appearing as if she were simultaneously in distress and in the throes of ferocious delight. _Was she enjoying it? _Severus wondered, cringing at the thought. He braced himself for the violent copulation that was sure to follow. He was totally surprised, then, when the thrumming tension in the room suddenly snapped, and a broken groan sounded from the man, who suddenly slumped forward, releasing Nina's throat as his head came to rest in agony on her chest. The rest happened so quickly, Severus struggled to perceive it all in his confusion. As soon as her throat was released, Nina erupted in a choking sound that Severus soon realized was a strange kind of laughter. Tears were running down her face, whether from being nearly suffocated or from her irrational hysteria, Severus couldn't tell. She struggled to contain her elation as the man gripped the bedclothes in his hand, tensing and breathing harshly. Severus recognized the danger in the man's posture, and mentally chided Nina for provoking it.

"_You fucking whore_," the man whispered harshly, piercing her with a dangerous gaze under his lowered brow, "I'll get you for this, you fucking bitch."

When Nina only laughed harder, the man became apoplectic. Pushing himself up to tower over her, Severus could see that the man's erection had deflated, and his belly was covered in his release. Nina's resulting, musical laugh at the image was completely unnerving, and the man faltered slightly before baring his teeth and raising his arm to strike her, hard, with the back of his hand. Her laugh was cut short for only a moment before she started up again, seemingly unable to control herself as the man proceeded to beat her, one long blow after another. Just when the situation was getting severely out of hand, a door burst open and a burly man entered the room, restraining the other man, who, by now, was completely livid as Nina continued to laugh as if she were possessed. Her strange, faltering laugh was still echoing through the memory as the scene dissolved and Severus was pulled back, back and away, the haunting sound of her laughter still ringing in his head even as he pulled out of her mind completely and fought to compose himself as he reoriented himself in the living room again.

After a moment of uncommon confusion, Severus realized the laughter was still present, though quieter, now coming from Hermione, slumped back lazily in the sofa across from him.

"What's so funny?" he mumbled, still disquieted by the scene that had played out before him a moment ago.

"Your hair," she chuckled, "what did you do to it?"

_Nina. Of course. _She hadn't seen him since the haircut Hermione had given him; the haircut that he'd been genuinely appreciative of, despite the unevenness of it. Hermione hadn't seemed to notice the asymmetry, and had been so intent on pleasing him that he didn't have the heart to correct it. There was something sweet about it, and when he'd scrutinized his reflection in the mirror, he decided he liked it exactly as it was. He'd allowed Hermione to touch him; allowed the intimacy that seemed necessary to ensure her comfort around him, and here was the visible proof of it. She hadn't butchered him; just left him a little lop-sided. And, to his great astonishment, he was okay with that. Merlin knows he'd done worse to her.

"It needed to be cut," he replied testily.

"Well," she smirked, "you made a right mess of it. I can fix it for you—"

"No," he interrupted, "it's fine the way it is."

Nina regarded him critically, scanning his face as her thoughts worked rapidly in her inscrutable head. "Alright then," she said quietly, her smirk gentling, "leave it that way." She cocked her head before continuing, "It's actually kind of cute."

Severus pursed his lips disapprovingly and stood up, casting an assessing glance over Nina. "How are you feeling?" he asked.

Nina looked up at him curiously before replying, "I've got a bit of a headache, actually, but I think I'm alright. How long was I out for this time?"

"Three days," Severus stated factually. He watched her closely as the news sunk in.

"I see," she said quietly. "It's never been this long before..."

"No."

"And you've been with her all this time?"

"Who else?"

Nina frowned slightly at that, but hid her expression before continuing casually, "And was it her? —who cut your hair?"

Severus' hesitation gave him away, but he answered, a little defensively, "Yes, she did."

When Nina just stared at him curiously, he became unsettled. "You require a restorative tea," he mumbled, "I'll fix some now." Nina didn't have a chance to respond as he turned away abruptly, and she narrowed her eyes at his retreating back. When she became bored with the sight of him moving purposefully around the kitchen, she turned her attention to herself, rolling her eyes as she regarded the clothes she was wearing. Somehow, the cargo pants had made a comeback. _That irritating little chit..._

"Where are those scissors?" Nina asked as she rifled through a kitchen drawer. Severus turned with a frown as he wondered what kind of mischief she could possibly be up to already.

"I believe you'll find them on the bathroom shelf," he muttered, hoping he wouldn't regret informing her of their whereabouts.

...

When Severus returned to the living room with a steaming cup of tea, he found Nina sporting a new pair of cut-off shorts. She'd made sloppy work of it, cutting too high, so that the insides of the hip pockets were exposed, peeking out from beneath the roughly chopped hem. Loose strands of the canvas material still clung to the skin of her thighs, and she was swatting them away as he approached.

"Drink this," he said, "it will help with the headache."

"It's not so bad anymore," she said dismissively, pivoting to glance at her rear end, making a show of swatting the loose threads from her scantily-clad bum in front of Severus. He scowled, but didn't look away.

"I still want you to drink it," he insisted, watching as she took her time examining her thighs, stroking her hand over them in a motion that might not have been interpreted as deliberately sensual by someone who didn't know better.

"_Now, Nina._"

She glanced up at his commanding, no-nonsense tone, smirking so slightly he might've missed it if he hadn't been looking for it.

"Alright then," she said calmly, stepping close to him as she took the proffered cup, not breaking eye contact as she lifted the rim to her lips and took a careful sip.

"It's hot," she said quietly, still gazing up at him as she licked the residual moisture from her lips. Severus had stood there staring at her from his impressive height, his lips pursed in mild displeasure.

"It loses efficacy as it cools," he replied steadily. "Better to drink it sooner rather than later."

"Mmmm," she answered, taking another careful sip, "I quite agree. We can't have that."

Severus quirked an eyebrow as he detected her hidden meaning, but otherwise appeared unfazed.

"I'm in no mood to be toyed with, girl. It's been a trying evening, and I have work to do. Drink the tea and try to keep out of trouble. I need to be left alone to consider some recent developments."

"Really?" she asked, her curiosity clearly piqued, "What happened?"

"I may have discovered something during this latest Legilimency session that warrants further investigation," he replied shortly. "For now, I require silence as I concentrate. Later I'll retire to the bathroom with my pensieve for an inestimable duration, so if you would like to take a bath, now would be an opportune time."

Nina just smiled enigmatically at him as she took a longer sip of her tea, her eyes never leaving his. "I guess so," she finally said with a sigh, "though, considering how long I've been gone, this is a pretty disappointing homecoming."

Severus furrowed his brow as he considered her unexpected complaint. _What did she want from him? _

"It was only three days," he said quietly.

"Hmmm," she replied, "It's strange, isn't it? It feels different for me."

"How so?" he asked.

"Well," she smiled, pausing to take another long sip, "in a way I still feel like we've just returned from the grotto; like I was there with you only a few hours ago, and woke up from a nap or something... and in another way..." She finally averted her eyes from his then, staring off into an unseen distance as she formulated her thoughts. "...in another way, it's like I've been asleep for a long time... part of me knows it, because now that I'm back, I have this weird sense that everything's changed a little bit... like the world went on without me while I was sleeping, and now I have some catching up to do..."

When she met his eyes again, Severus was surprised by the unexpected earnestness he saw in them; there was a strange kind of sadness in her expression, faint as it was, and his heart was momentarily weighted by the force of it. He studied her for a long moment before he quietly replied, "Go take your bath, Nina."

She turned away from him obediently with a small smile that he didn't even attempt to interpret. He stood in place as he collected his thoughts, listening to the familiar sounds of the taps squeaking, the tub filling with water, and the low hum of the plumbing. He looked up as he sensed Nina regarding him from the bathroom doorway, finding her dressed loosely in her satin robe as she leaned against the frame, balancing her teacup daintily between her hands. She rolled her head against the wood as she looked at him, a forthcoming question obvious in her posture. He waited for it.

"Severus?" she asked, her voice honeyed. He responded with an inquiring lift of an eyebrow.

"Did you miss me?"

Though he wasn't sure how, his expression must've given him away, because she didn't wait for any verbal confirmation. Instead she smiled her enigmatic smile, looking too pleased for Severus' comfort, and languidly pulled out of the doorway and back into the bathroom, shutting the door softly behind her.

...


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27

.

As Nina sulked in the tub, she trailed her pink disposable razor carefully over her soapy leg, methodically clearing away the stubble that her counterpart had neglected during her absence. It greatly disturbed her to find such tangible evidence of this other personality on her own body, and for the first time she fully appreciated the fact that her body was, indeed, _shared. _For three days it had been in the possession of another while she had waited, dormant, until it was her turn to wake up. _What had happened in the duration? What had she done? What had she eaten? Said? Worn to bed? _...it was all a terrible mystery, and she hated it.

_How long will I be away for next time? _she wondered, _What if I never come back?_

A cold chill ran through her as she considered the possibility, and her hand faltered, the razor nicking a small cut in her skin. With a sigh she set the razor aside for the moment and sank deeper into the water, leaning back against the basin and pouting as she watched a small bead of blood collect over the cut. She momentarily experienced a distorted sense of reality as she considered the fact that, yesterday, she might've bled from some other accident, but wouldn't have felt a thing. _What if something major happened to her while she was away, and she woke up to find herself disfigured somehow? _She watched the dark red bead grow pendulous until it fell, streaking down her wet leg until all that was left was a pinkish trail. It seemed unreal to her; the whole world seemed suddenly dreamlike and vague. _Nothing matters,_ a little voice whispered from the back of her mind. _You're not real._

"_No," _she said aloud, _"fuck this."_

With a determined expression, she swiped the trail of blood away and resumed where she had left off. She wasn't going to give up that easily. She was a thinking, feeling, _living_ person, and there was a dark, rather gorgeous-in-an-unexpected-way man in the room outside, who she still hadn't managed to fuck yet. She'd be damned if she was going to give him up to some cargo pants-wearing, boring chit who didn't shave her legs.

To complicate matters further, that man was currently working on a plan to bring that boring chit back, permanently. She nearly teared up at the idea. _"What about me," _she thought... _Did he want to get rid of her forever? Was that the plan? Bring back Hermione, and pretend Nina never existed? What would happen to her, then? Would she just cease to exist? Never wake up again? Become nothing?_

...

In the living room, Severus was deep in thought as he scribbled notations in his notebook. His sharp ears picked up the sound of Nina's voice from behind the bathroom door, but he hadn't heard what she'd said. _Was she talking to herself, now? Fantastic. _He just hoped a new personality wasn't emerging. He had enough on his hands already, what with the two of them; the last thing he needed was a schizophrenic Hermione arriving late to the party.

When no further sounds could be heard, he returned to his earlier cogitations. He knew he'd seen something significant in the last memory he'd witnessed, he just wasn't entirely sure what it meant. That he'd witnessed an esoteric act of magic, he had no doubt; further examination via the makeshift pensieve might shed more light on the subject, but he knew enough already to understand that, somehow, Nina's access to her magical reserve wasn't entirely dormant. It had been activated in that memory; he'd sensed it at work, however subtly, though he suspected it might not have been wholly in her control — neither was it wholly spontaneous. It seemed to loom, rather, like a force _outside_ of her, though he'd never encountered such a thing before. For a magical force field to be at once connected and _dis_connected from the source— namely the witch herself— was a startling occurrence, and it strongly suggested that another kind of magic was at work, in tandem with Hermione's. _But to what end? _He wondered, _How, and why, would such a thing happen?_

He had a small suspicion, but so slight was it that he wouldn't even allow himself to think about it properly before he had more information. He needed access to more texts. The volumes he'd hastily packed wouldn't contain anything relevant to this new development, which meant his only viable option was to attempt to covertly infiltrate the nearest Wizarding library. It was a huge risk, as it would make him vulnerable to discovery, but he felt it was one he had to take. He was close to making real progress; he could feel it. His instincts were all on high alert. For the first time in far too long, he felt that he actually had a chance to save her. He would just have to be very, very careful in making his next move.

...

"Are you going somewhere?" Nina asked as she emerged from the bedroom, freshly dressed in her spandex night shorts and oversized t-shirt. She regarded Severus curiously as she brushed out her hair, finding him dressed in a nondescript overcoat and heavy work boots. She vaguely recalled him being dressed much the same way when he'd 'kidnapped' her, though he'd been dressed differently when she'd regained consciousness. The dim memory and its lingering associations made her somewhat uneasy.

"I will be, soon," Severus replied coolly, not looking up as he carefully scanned a couple pages of his notebook. "I have some supplies I need to pick up from town. It's better if I do so after dark."

"What town?" Nina asked, approaching him carefully. He suddenly seemed less familiar to her.

"It's a fair distance away," he mumbled in response, "I'll be Apparating, of course."

"Can I come with you?"

"Absolutely not."

Nina narrowed her eyes at his quick reply, offended by the finality in his voice.

"How come? I've been stuck here forever. I thought I wasn't a hostage," she demanded.

Finally looking up at her with controlled exasperation, Severus smoothly replied, "You aren't. But it's dangerous enough for me to leave alone; it would be unthinkably dangerous to take you with me."

"But there's some things I need to pick up, as well," she tried.

Severus eyed her speculatively before cautiously replying, "I can't run a hundred errands, as I have some of my own that are of the utmost priority... but if you'll keep your requests reasonable, and practical... ...I may be able to accommodate them."

Nina rolled her eyes as she slumped onto the sofa, leaning back into the cushions and playing with the ends of her hair as she considered what she needed most.

"Well, I could use some better razors, but I guess those aren't _that _important..." she mused aloud.

"Aaaaand... the conditioner in there is pretty lame... I'm pretty sure it's expired, anyways... and _don't get me started _on that awful bar soap, which is hardly fit for washing hands, let alone your face..."

Before she could say anything further, Severus tore a piece of paper from his notebook and conjured her a pen.

"Make a list. Quietly. I'll do what I can, but I'm not making any promises."

Nina flashed him a look of annoyance as she set the paper on the coffee table and hunched over it, nibbling on the end of the pen before making hesitant notations. Severus returned to his own notes while she compiled her list, and they lapsed into a long silence. Of course, Nina was the first to break it.

"What day is it?" She asked suddenly, looking up with furrowed brows, "I've completely lost track of time..."

Severus took a moment to respond, uncomfortably realizing that he, too, was losing track.

"I believe that it's the 23rd," he answered quietly.

"Oh wow... Severus... it's almost Christmas..."

She was right, of course. Though he failed to see how it was of any consequence.

"What's your point?"

"We should do something," she suggested, a little uncomfortably. "Why don't you get a cake or something?"

Severus gave her a withering look, clearly unimpressed with the idea.

"In my experience, the holiday has never been worth celebrating. I doubt you yourself can recall many happy Christmases."

In truth, she could only recall one with any actual clarity: it had been a year ago, and the day was not one she would ever call 'happy.' The uneasiness of her recollection must've shown, because Severus' demeanor turned slightly sympathetic.

"If you wish it, I'll bring back a cake," he said quietly. Nina smiled softly at him in response, then returned to her list. When she could think of nothing else of great necessity, she rose from the sofa and handed it to Severus. He took it warily, glancing over it with an expression of increasing aggravation.

"What on Earth do you need red lipstick for? I'm not buying that," he said uncomfortably.

"No! Please!" Nina pleaded, "I don't need any expensive kind; any drugstore brand would do! Do you know how awful it is not to have any makeup around here?"

"You _don't need it,_" he insisted, "there's no one to impress here."

"I want it for _myself!_" She replied testily, "Please, Severus; just let me wear a little lipstick... for _Christmas!_ It would make me so happy..."

Though her reasoning astounded him, he was loathe to contradict her when she appeared so desperate.

"I'm not making any promises," he muttered after a long pause.

Nina nodded in response, not wanting to press her luck too far. She needed that lipstick.

Tucking her list into his pocket, Severus glanced out the window. The sun was setting, and it would soon be dark enough to travel.

"How long will you be gone for?" Nina asked quietly.

"I can't say for certain," Severus replied, looking up at the carefully hidden sound of worry he detected in her voice. "You shouldn't wait up for me, though. I'll see you in the morning."

"You might..." Nina said hesitantly, "Or maybe _she _will wake up, instead."

"...Perhaps." Severus looked at her uncomfortably before continuing, "Either way, I'm coming back. Don't lose any sleep waiting around."

"What if something happened to you, though?" She asked, crossing her arms tightly around herself as she approached him slowly, "What if you were in some kind of accident? What would happen to me, all alone out here? Have you thought about that?"

"You don't need to worry," Severus insisted, "Nothing will happen to me."

"You don't know that," she answered in a low voice, "You can't be absolutely certain."

Severus gave her a long look before replying, in an even lower voice, "I won't let anything happen to you."

Nina didn't look convinced, but the tone of his voice did not invite further argument.

"Be careful, Severus," Nina whispered, placing a hand on his arm. Her proximity to him was distressing, and he nodded sharply before smoothly extricating himself.

"I haven't had time to prepare any supper, but if you're hungry you might make yourself a sandwich."

"I'll be alright. What about you, though? Won't you be hungry?"

"I'll be fine," he answered shortly. "I must ask that you don't leave the house at any time. The porch is fine, but please keep off the roof while I'm away. I'll be very upset if I return to find that you've broken your neck."

"What would you do, then?" she teased.

"I'd break it again," he replied sarcastically.

Nina smirked at him, touched by his concern.

"I'll be off, now," Severus said, straightening his coat. "Take care."

"Wait!" Nina shouted, hurrying to him before he could Apparate away. Before he knew what she had in mind, she had pressed herself up against him and thrown her arms around his neck, kissing him soundly. He hesitated for only a heartbeat before pushing her away in agitation.

"Stop this," he spat, holding her at arm's length, his look of irritation softening minutely when he registered the genuine concern in her eyes. "I'm coming back."

"Promise?" She whispered, clinging to his wrists as he gripped her shoulders. She looked almost frantic, clearly distraught over the idea of him parting from her.

"Yes," he answered earnestly, gently removing himself from her grip and stepping away. He gave her one last solid look of reassurance before spiraling away into nothingness, a loud _crack _sounding in his wake.

Nina took in a shaky breath as she stood alone in the empty space, the living room suddenly seeming unbearably bleak and confining. She hugged herself as she scanned the room with forlorn eyes, her gaze finally coming to rest on a pair of large, dusty boxes, abandoned in a corner. With a little conspiratorial smile, she suddenly knew just how to occupy herself while she waited for him.

* * *

><p>It was only a few hours before dawn when Severus finally returned. He landed outside the house so as not to wake Nina with the sound of Apparation, a billowing cloud of red dust stirring up around his legs as he gained footing on the dirt floor. As the dust settled, he froze in place at the unexpected sight before him: the house was <em>blinking<em>. A multicolored strand of Christmas lights had been strung up along the porch awning, wrapping down in a spiral along two of the support beams and twinkling on and off at regular intervals. _So much for keeping a low profile, _Severus thought miserably.

He approached the house warily, afraid of what else Nina might have got up to in his absence. As he stepped up to the porch, he could see more lights inside the house: a fake Christmas tree had been assembled in the living room, and was glowing with alternating red and green lights, strung up along with a generous coating of sparkling silver tinsel. Severus stared at it with a mix of astonishment and dread for a moment before slowly making his way toward the entryway, his footsteps sounding dully on the floorboards as he carefully stepped around the trail of lights connecting with a long extension cord, which wound, snake-like, up the stoop before disappearing under the crack beneath the old door.

Once inside the strangely lit space, Severus immediately noticed Nina asleep on the sofa. She was curled up like she'd been waiting for him, her hands tucked under her face against the cushion, legs pulled in anxiously beneath her. Stepping closer, he regarded her sleeping face, pretty as ever under the soft glow of red and green lights from the nearby Christmas tree. He gazed at her for a long beat before turning away quietly and investigating the kitchen, frowning when he couldn't find any evidence that she'd eaten anything. With a quick silencing charm he began summoning his parcels, putting away the perishable supplies after removing temporary stasis spells. He placed the Black Forest gâteau he'd purchased in the center of the dining table, half-heartedly making his own contribution to the festive atmosphere. He really loathed holidays— this one, especially— but felt obligated to Hermione (_and Nina, too, perhaps_) to make an effort. Just as long as she didn't expect him to don a paper hat.

When he had nothing left to do but retire for what little remained of the night, Severus returned to the sofa, contemplating whether or not to disturb Nina. He was fully exhausted, and the thought of sleeping in a real bed was quite tempting. It didn't take long to make up his mind. With a flick of his wand, he summoned a light blanket and draped it over Nina's sleeping form, just barely stopping himself from touching her hair tenderly before pulling away. After a moment's hesitation, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a gold tube of lipstick, placing it carefully on the low table in front of her. With one last look, he crept silently into the bedroom.

Leaving the door open so as to be alerted to any stirrings, Severus quickly undressed down to his boxer shorts and collapsed heavily onto the mattress, sighing deeply as he pulled the sheet over his shoulders and settled onto his side. Within a minute, he was fast asleep, thoughts of sweet kisses and twinkling lights dancing in his head.

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><p>For the first time in his life, Severus Snape woke up in bed with a girl. If he had any kind of experience with such a thing, he might've reached over and pulled her close to him; might've buried his face against her neck and roused himself to the scent of her skin. As it was, he had no such instincts, and so he froze, an inch away from hexing her to pieces.<p>

He realized it was Nina almost as soon as he realized he wasn't alone, which was very fortunate for her. _Not fortunate enough, though, as she'd soon learn_; before she could sneak her arm around him, Severus shot up in a flash, grabbing her wrist and throwing her onto her back in one swift movement, eliciting a sharp scream of surprise from the startled girl beneath him. Her eyes widened at the ferocious expression on his face, but her shock was short-lived: as soon as he had her pinned, she erupted into a fit of hysterical giggles. Though her laughter had an edge of nervousness to it, his face fell at the sight of her mirth.

"That was a stupid thing to do," Severus muttered, his voice harsh with sleep.

Nina, still laughing, swatted his cheek playfully with her free hand. "I just wanted to thank you for the lipstick," she said through her laughter, "I didn't know you'd go all Commando on me..."

"I could've hexed you," he rasped.

"Yeah?" she replied, her laughter fading into a sultry smile, "What's that like?"

"You don't want to know," he answered lowly, releasing her arm with a look of definite warning.

Severus rolled onto his back and rubbed his head, not ready to experience Nina after so little sleep. The sun was only just beginning to rise; he'd left her on the sofa only a few short hours ago. She hadn't been sleeping in the most comfortable position; he berated himself for not expecting her to wake up prematurely.

"If you wanted to thank me, you should've _let me sleep_," he complained. "I got in late. I'm exhausted."

"I know you did," she agreed, "I was up late; you never came back." Her face fell as she continued, quietly, "I thought something might've happened."

Severus regarded her with a mixed look of frustration, wariness, and apology. _Why was it so hard for him to witness her vulnerability?_ "I made a promise to return, didn't I?" he muttered.

She searched his face before replying softly, "Yes, you did. ...But how was I to know if you'd keep it?"

_How did she manage to unsettle him so easily? _Severus sighed inwardly as he reached out and gripped Nina lightly by the chin. "I won't let anything else happen to you. You have my word, for whatever it's worth. I can't offer any more than that. ...Now get out of my bed. I'm going back to sleep."

"But it's my bed!" Nina said with a laugh, "You left me on the couch."

Severus looked exasperated. "Are you determined to deny me any peace?" he groaned, wanting very much to be left to the big, soft bed for another couple hours at least. His head ached and his body felt much abused from his long travels.

"No, of course not," she cooed, reaching over to stroke his hair, "you go back to sleep. You're just fine where you are. I don't mind."

Severus swatted her hand away, replying, "Well _I _do mind; go back to the couch, I'm sleeping here for another few hours."

"Please, Severus," Nina pleaded in her most sweetly compelling voice, "I won't bother you. I want to stay here with you; I don't want to be alone any more tonight..."

"No, Nina."

"It's scary out there!"

"Why? You certainly left enough lights on."

"I feel too exposed, sleeping out there... I really don't like it."

"Then read a magazine or something."

"But I've missed you."

"I've only been gone for the night."

"It was a long night..."

Severus paused at the look on her face, sensing that she had, in fact, spent a lot of time worrying over him. _He hadn't meant to frighten her; he'd told her to go to sleep..._

With a deep sigh he resigned himself, too tired to argue with her and too comfortable to get out of bed. He shifted to put more space between them and turned his back on her, mumbling, "Don't try to touch me again; I was alert enough not to hex you once, but you may not be so lucky a second time."

"Thank you, Severus." Nina sighed with relief and happiness, then kissed the tips of her fingers before reaching over and pressing the kiss into the exposed skin of his back. "Sleep well."

Severus suppressed a shudder at the contact, and grunted in response. After taking a few moments to get over the uneasy fact that there was a girl resting beside him (had he been more awake, he would've been considerably more disturbed by it), Severus managed to fall back into a restful slumber.

Nina stared at the man next to her for a bit longer, wading through the new emotions that were forming around her. Though none were familiar, they were all welcome, lighting up parts of her that she didn't know could be lit; _who knew sharing a bed with a man could be so much fun?_

As she drifted off to sleep, she didn't notice that the very last thought she had before falling into unconsciousness hadn't come from her, but had been a drowsy echo from the sleeper inside of her: _Why does my pillow smell like Professor Snape?_

_...  
><em>

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><p><em><strong><span>AN: You guys were so cool with the reviews last chapter, that I was eager to get this one out promptly. Thank you! **_

_**Just to be clear: this story takes place during December in Australia, which, as I understand it, is summertime. If you're curious what's happening back home in the meantime, I assure you that everything will be revealed eventually! **_


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28

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(Second Interlude: Two Dreams)

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He was standing on a vast desert plain— a grim streak of black in a sun-washed sepia landscape— scanning the horizon. He'd been walking aimlessly for too long — he needed a plan; wanted a purpose. _What am I doing here? ... _Suddenly a fearsome roar sounded behind him, too close for comfort; he spun into a defensive stance, only to find that he had no wand. He found himself facing an enormous lion; the beast snarled at him hungrily, its deadly incisors gleaming in the relentless sunshine. He took a step backward, only for the beast to advance on him in a slow, predatory circle. Without the use of magic, he could do naught but stand by helplessly. _Is this it? _he wondered, _Is this how I am to die? _As if in response, the beast snarled at him, ducking low before circling 'round in the opposite direction, advancing ever closer on the defenseless wizard. He stood completely still as it slunk behind him, tensing as its flanks brushed along the backs of his legs. Suddenly it leapt up in front of him, its heavy paws landing on his shoulders as it stood face to face with him. As he looked into its golden eyes, he felt its claws gently flex, tearing small holes in the fabric of his cloak. Shuddering as it bared its teeth at him only inches away from his face, he shakily raised a hand to its forearm, attempting to gently push it off of him. The beast snarled again, but as he raised his other hand to the opposite side, gently coaxing it down, the lion momentarily relented, standing on all fours as the wizard crouched down in front of it, tentatively soothing it with gentle motions. As the wizard's taming gestures became more confident, the snarl faded away into a soft purr as the beast gentled under his touch. As the wizard's hands stroked tenderly over the lion's humongous head, its magnificent golden mane suddenly morphed away as the beast transformed into a sleek lioness. She purred louder now, rolling onto her side like an over-sized house cat as the wizard continued to calm her with his reverent caresses. When he was at last satisfied that the beast meant him no harm, he stilled his hand and began to rise cautiously to his feet again. Before he had unbent his knees, the beast's claws came out and caught on the sleeve of his coat, lazily dragging him back toward her supine form. He gently resisted, tenderly removing the paw as he attempted to extricate himself as smoothly as possible. The lioness would not have it, though: she growled lightly as he turned away, leaping up lethargically and catching the tail of his cloak with her teeth, tugging on it playfully. The wizard quelled his impatience and turned toward her apologetically, placed his hand on the top of her head as she nudged eagerly into his caress, then turned to depart again, only to have his hand seized lightly by her formidable jaws. He gasped before she released him; she hadn't broken the skin, but the bite was a clear warning. _"I must go," _he begged, backing away as she snarled a threat in response. Her claws caught his leg as he turned again to flee, easily felling him before bounding on top of him, purring fiercely as he thrashed beneath her, unable to fend her off as she proceeded to deliriously tear him to shreds.

.

* * *

><p>Hermione was walking silently alongside Professor Snape as he led her out into an expansive clearing, well-it by moonlight. She didn't know where he was taking her, but was tentatively placing her trust in him, nonetheless. The wizard beside her moved somberly, his head held high as he wore an expression so serious that Hermione was compelled to follow suit, moving along with similar solemnity, though she couldn't stop a flicker of worry from clouding her features. Their progression seemed almost funereal to her, and the thought made her distinctly uncomfortable. <em>Why won't he look at me? ... <em>She was suddenly overcome with the desire to reach out and take his hand, but hesitated, fearing that the move would not be welcome. Though he was close enough to touch, she felt utterly alone as she continued the long trek with him. Suddenly they halted before a wide rise in the rocky earth; Snape looked down at her then with a terrifyingly blank expression, nodding once before placing a stiff hand on her back, urging her forward. Together they climbed the short hill until they reached a large opening in the ground. They were standing at the mouth of a gigantic hole — a seemingly bottomless pit that gaped soundlessly, frightening Hermione, and she started backing away, lest she fall in. She had only managed a single step backward before she felt a stiff hand at her back again, and turned to find Snape staring down at her with hard eyes. She searched his face as she struggled to comprehend what he had in mind, lifting a shaky hand to his chest as her distressed eyes scanned his. _"I'm sorry, Nina," _he said, taking a menacing step forward. _"No," _she replied, her voice unaccountably small, _"I'm not Nina..." _Snape frowned at her, and she raised shaking fingers to his face, afraid to touch him, but desperate to reach him. _"No more games," _he replied in a stern voice. _What did he mean by that? What was he going to do? _Unable to bear the coldness of his regard, Hermione clung to his coat, her other hand pressing shakily over his heart. _"It's me, Professor — can't you tell? Please, don't do this..." _before she could plead any further, he dove down and seized her mouth with his, gripping her roughly by the shoulders as he kissed her violently, causing her to emit a small cry as he bit down on her lip. He then pulled away swiftly, his expression fierce before he forced it back into a mask of stone, a spot of her blood staining his mouth. The hands on her shoulders tensed as he forced her back slowly, with strength she was unable to resist. _"Please, Professor," _she cried, _"You're making a mistake! I'm not Nina!" _Her footing slipped as she encountered the edge of the abyss, and a jolt of terror ran through her. _Maybe if I kissed him again, _she thought; _k__iss him sweetly; make him see... _wrapping an arm around his neck for stability, Hermione pulled herself up and pressed her face against his, her eyelashes fluttering against his cheek as she cried softly, clinging to him with her whole body. He felt solid against her, and she wept with confusion as she longed to hold on to him and flee from him at the same time. With all the desperation she could muster, she looked into his unyielding eyes, willing him to understand. _"I'm sorry," _he said coldly, before taking a step back and pushing her over the edge.

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	29. Chapter 29

Chapter 29

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The sensation of falling jolted Hermione awake as the nightmare ended. Her heart raced and she took a deep breath to steady herself, blinking to adjust her tear-streaked eyes to the pale morning light filtering in through the dirty windowpane behind her. As her lungs filled, she detected a familiar scent in the air she breathed, and experienced a brief sense of déjà vu. _Snape..._

A rustling in the sheets beside her nearly stopped her heart, and her head snapped sideways, her eyes widening and her breath hitching as she found she was not alone. She pushed back automatically, scrambling away as her brain struggled to catch up with her eyes: there beside her was the Potions Master himself, _naked _in her bed! ...At least, he seemed naked enough... his lower half was, for the moment, concealed by the sheet pulled up to his very naked chest, but there was enough skin for Hermione to feel thoroughly scandalized. _Is this another dream?_

As her mouth gaped unattractively at the shocking sight before her, the wayward Potions Master twitched again, his muscles seizing in the throes of what must have been a bad nightmare of his own. _"No..." _he mumbled, _"Get off..."_

As his arm suddenly flailed back— landing limply on the mattress as another spasm seized his whole body— Hermione's own shock subsided minutely as she was stricken with concern for the distraught man. Her own nightmare was still fresh in her mind, and— in the way they sometimes will— the residual emotions invoked by the dream welled up again, both the feeling of betrayal and the conflicting desire to be close to him still raw within her, twisting at her heartstrings. Here he was, again: her executioner — her beloved. _Which was he, really? Did either role actually apply? _

Her curiosity as to what he was doing (_naked?_) in bed with her was momentarily waylaid by her preoccupation with his apparent distress. A sheen of sweat coated his brow, and his movements were becoming increasingly agitated. She could still hear him muttering in a voice that almost didn't sound like his, though it was difficult to make out what he was saying. Before she knew what she was doing, she reached over to place a steadying hand against his bare chest, half-consciously mirroring the gesture from her dream. There was no bottomless pit to toss her into this time, but she still trembled with awareness at the danger of touching him.

Leaning over him cautiously, Hermione slowly lifted her other hand to his brow, lightly running her fingers through his sweat-dampened hair as she half-whispered, _"Professor Snape? ...Professor, wake up..."_

The man beneath her made a strange noise and tossed his head to the side, apparently unsettled by the hand moving through his hair. Hermione's eyes dropped to his mouth as the noise escaped, her vision blurring for a moment as she recalled the dream of her blood staining that mouth, still vivid in her mind's eye. In her dream, she'd wanted so badly to kiss that mouth again, sweetly— to prove to him that she was not what he took her for. Her fingers unthinkingly strayed to that mouth, lightly tracing over the place her imaginary blood had marred. In her distraction she hadn't noticed that the man had stilled, his body suddenly tensing with alertness. As his eyes shot open, Hermione had only a split second for her surprise to register before she found herself thrown backwards against the far end of the mattress, her breath blown out of her at the impact. The Potions Master was clearly awake now, and was currently holding her down with his whole body, her wrists twisted and pinned at awkward angles beside her as he glared down at her with an expression more frightening than any she'd yet to witness from him, his terrifying face only inches from hers. In her peripheral vision the Dark Mark stood out vividly against the pale skin of his forearm, its blackness pulsating in response to the wizard's barely-contained wrath. If she'd ever had trouble imagining him as a true Death Eater, those doubts were now vanquished.

As she struggled to catch her breath, the ferocity in Snape's eyes gradually diminished as his still-waking mind comprehended the fact that the girl beneath him was not an immediate threat — in its place, however, was a growing asperity.

"I thought I told you not to try touching me again," he rasped in a low voice, dangerous though sleep-softened. His grip on her wrists hadn't slackened, and she winced in pain, still struggling to regain her breath. Realizing he was hurting her, he loosened his grip, but didn't release her.

"You were having a nightmare," she managed, her voice sounding unusually strained, "I didn't mean any harm..."

"It's too early for your games, Nina," he retorted, releasing her wrists completely as he pushed himself back, "I'm not in the mood."

At his words, an echo of her dream replayed in her mind: _No more games..._

She shuddered, her voice faltering as she supplied, "I'm not Nina..."

He looked at her sharply then, his eyes flashing as he sought evidence of her deception. "Oh you're not, are you?" He responded, his eyes narrowing, "Nice try, girl. If you want to play a role, you'd better know the part: I can assure you that Miss Granger would not try to kiss me when I'm sleeping."

"I wasn't _trying to kiss you!_" Hermione retorted, clearly offended, pushing herself up into a sitting position. Snape's eyes narrowed further as he considered the incensed female across from him; her face was flushed, and her posture was radiating defensiveness. Surely Nina wasn't _this _great of an actress...

"Furthermore, _Professor_, I might ask what you're doing in my bed, practically naked!" She continued, glancing at his boxer shorts, "You're hardly in a position to be accusing _me _of impropriety!"

Now convinced of his mistake, Snape slumped back on his elbow, his head lowered as he groaned minutely, his hand rubbing at the increasing tension above his forehead.

"My apologies," he muttered, "You caught me by surprise."

Hermione snorted at that, recalling the surprise of her own that had landed her on her back a moment ago.

The pair lapsed into an awkward silence, Hermione pulling her knees up to her chest as she tried in vain to avert her eyes from the half-naked Potions Master. Finally she summoned the courage to ask, quietly, "Am I to understand that you and Nina are..."

When she couldn't finish her sentence, she made a vague gesture with her hand, struggling to hold his gaze as Snape looked up at her with a strange expression.

"Certainly not," he eventually replied, though the quietness of his response was nothing short of suspicious.

"Then what... why are you..."

Snape sighed before answering her unfinished question. "I had important errands to run last night, and got in late. When I found Nina asleep on the sofa, I took advantage of the empty bed. She crept in sometime early this morning, claiming she was afraid of returning to the living room, and I was too exhausted to cast her out. I simply went back to sleep, and... you know the rest."

He nearly fidgeted under Hermione's scrutiny, knowing she was far too intelligent to dismiss the situation so easily, but hoping she would be courteous enough not to press him further at present. Until he was properly caffeinated, he had no desire to enter into a discussion of the hazy parameters of his relationship with her alter ego. After a rather stressful pause, she finally spoke, surprising him with her change of subject.

"I had a nightmare too, this morning," she said quietly, looking at him strangely. Severus suddenly realized there was something unusual about her this morning... _Has she been crying? — _For the first time, he noticed the faint tear streaks on her face. Before he could formulate a response, she continued, "You were in it."

Severus just stared at her, waiting uncomfortably for her to continue.

"We were walking up this rocky hill, and you were very quiet... when we got to the top, there was this big hole in the ground... you thought I was Nina, but you wouldn't believe me when I told you I wasn't, and then..."

He raised an eyebrow when she broke off as an unanticipated heaviness seized her chest. After taking a moment to recollect herself, she looked up at him and continued, "You... kissed me..." she said quietly, causing two high spots on his cheeks to color in alarm, "...but it wasn't a very nice kiss... and then... then you pushed me, into the abyss."

Severus regarded her for a long moment in silence, his whole body taught with discomfort. Finally he lowered his gaze, quietly replying, "Dreams are fickle things, Miss Granger. Their meaning isn't often clear, and even less often important."

"I don't know..." she nearly whispered, "...this one seemed kind of important." When they sat in silence for another few beats, she asked, "What was yours about?"

Severus debated whether to answer, idly fingering the edge of the sheet before sardonically replying, "I was mauled by a lion."

Hermione let out a laugh of surprise, unable to stop herself. She reigned in her nervous mirth as he looked up at her sharply, before she responded, with insincere condolence, "I'm sorry, that must've been terrible."

"Your sympathy is noted, Miss Granger," he muttered, glancing around the room for his trousers.

"Tell me, Sir, are you not a cat person?" She continued lightly, nearly managing to conceal any hint of teasing in her voice.

"I'm beginning to wonder," he muttered vaguely, turning his back on her and tossing his legs over the side of the bed as he located his discarded clothing, reaching down to disentangle his slacks from the heap. Hermione's teasing was cut short when she took in the sight of his near-naked form, noticing a fine trail of old scars slashed across the pale skin of his lower back. She quickly averted her eyes, lest she be caught ogling him.

When his trousers had been fastened and his shirt pulled over his head, he turned to face her as he pushed his arms through the sleeves and righted the hem, flashing her a view of his narrow waist and surprisingly fit stomach before tugging the shirt in place. Hermione blushed and looked away again, causing him to narrow his eyes in confusion.

"I'll go and fix tea, then," he announced quietly, "I apologize again for the confusion this morning."

"It's alright," Hermione murmured, unconsciously rubbing her sore wrist as he mentioned the earlier event. His eyes caught the gesture, and he moved hesitantly to her side, reaching down to inspect her lightly bruised wrists.

"Ah," he muttered, sitting on the edge of the mattress beside her and drawing his wand to summon the bruise paste. "I'm sorry I was so rough with you. It's really not a good idea to rouse me from sleep."

Hermione swallowed thickly as he proceeded to apply the salve with two gentle fingers, rubbing it lightly in a circular motion around her delicate wrists. Unable to trust her voice to sound normal, she opted to remain silent. Her heart was beating unusually fast, and she prayed he couldn't hear it.

As Severus applied the salve with his left hand, the right hand steadying her wrist pressed surreptitiously against her pulse, unmistakably detecting the heightened rhythm. His application slowed as his mind worked rapidly to consider what it meant. _Was she still afraid of him? _Although he might've once gloried in the evidence of having successfully elicited fear in a Griffindor, for reasons he had yet to fully fathom, the idea of Hermione fearing him, now, left him unaccountably bereft. Gently placing her hands in her lap, he rose from her side, frowning slightly as he resealed the jar of ointment.

"Thank you," she murmured as she stared at her lap, her voice sounding odd. Severus nodded, muttered something that sounded like "mmhmm," and left the bedroom in a stride curiously lacking in gravitas.

...

Severus halted on his way to the kitchen, having nearly forgotten the recent decorative changes. The Christmas tree was still lit up, its presence incongruous in the dingy space. In his tired state, he hadn't noticed the other festive additions Nina had set up: there were red candles assembled on several surfaces around the room, most of which were partially melted, and an old teddy bear dressed in a Santa costume was seated at the far end of the sofa. Severus approached the bear stiffly when he saw it, pursing his lips as he stared it down with a disturbed look on his face.

"What's all this?" Hermione asked, hesitantly stepping into the living room as she took in the festive decor.

"Something Nina did while I was out last night," Severus answered in an undertone, uncomfortably abandoning his stand-off with the bear Santa.

Hermione looked around in awe, trying to get used to the idea that she did surprising things like this when she was in her fugue state. Here was further evidence of Nina's existence; she wasn't sure how to feel about it.

"Is it almost Christmastime?" Hermione asked, sounding slightly dazed.

"It's Christmas eve, in fact," Severus replied with a sigh, turning away toward the kitchen again.

Hermione stared around the room absorbing the information; _she was spending Christmas eve __**here**__? With __**him**__? What about her parents? What about Harry and the Weasleys? _She knew that her world had been turned upside down lately, but this made it all seem even more unreal. She was standing in a shack in the middle of nowhere, dressed in skimpy night clothes, staring at a gaudy plastic Christmas tree while Professor Snape— whom she'd just woken up in bed with— fixed her breakfast on Christmas eve. For all she'd encountered in her time as a witch, she was pretty certain her life had never been quite so bizarre.

And then she noticed the lipstick. The little gold tube had been left on the coffee table in front of the sofa, and its alien _newness _amidst the dingy surroundings made it stand out as something remarkably curious. Hermione cocked her head as she approached it, picking it up carefully and examining it, confirming that it was indeed quite new. She opened the cap to find that it hadn't even been used yet; _where had it come from? What was it doing sitting on the table?_

"What's this?" She asked, turning in place and holding it up for Snape to see. As he looked up from his preparations, he went quite still for a moment before quickly composing himself, returning to the kettle as he replied, "Just something Nina asked me to pick up while I was out. There were some other items as well," he continued with practiced indifference, not looking at her as he produced his wand and summoned a parcel with a careless flick. The paper bag landed at Hermione's feet as Severus went back to work as if the subject was finished. Hermione wasn't waylaid so easily, however.

"She asked you to buy lipstick?" she continued, glancing up at him suspiciously as she sorted through the more practical items in the bag. When Severus just answered with a vague sound, she pressed on, "What for?"

"I imagine she intended to smear it on her lips," he replied sarcastically, agitatedly rifling through a drawer.

"Yes, but why would she need it in the first place?" She replied, ineffectively suppressing her irritation.

"Miss Granger, don't fool yourself into thinking I'm someone who understands the vagaries of young women. I'm sure you'd have a better idea than I would. She insisted that the purchase was necessary, and I wasn't inclined to argue with her. It's that simple. Now," he continued, abruptly changing his tone, "how would you like your eggs?"

"You weren't inclined to argue with her last night, either, when she asked to share your bed..." She persisted, undaunted by his impatience with her line of questioning.

"She _didn't ask_," he said flatly, narrowing his eyes at her implication.

"Regardless, it seems that— for someone _I know_ to be quite adept at argumentation— you seem to have a weak spot where Nina is concerned..."

"What are you implying, Miss Granger?" Severus replied with rising aggravation, crossing his arms defensively as he faced her from the far corner of the kitchen, leaning stiffly against the countertop.

"I just don't know what I'm supposed to make of all this," she answered sullenly, mirroring his defensive posture. "You have to admit that it does look rather unusual from an outsider perspective."

"Granted," he allowed, frowning slightly.

"And I'm hardly an outsider when it comes down to it... I mean, it's _my lips _she wants to tart up, you know?"

"I'm fully aware of the circumstances," he murmured.

"Are you, though?" she pressed, taking a few steps toward him, "I hope you mean that, because it does seem like you're forgetting that we're not two separate people... you do seem to... to..."

"To what?"

"...to _favor_ her," she said quietly.

Severus made a strange face at that, asking uncomfortably, "Is this jealousy, Miss Granger?"

She frowned at him, narrowing her eyes in indignation. "Why should I be jealous? I'm simply confused about what's going on when I'm not in control of my own body."

She thought she saw him flinch at that, but he continued smoothly, "Your confusion is understandable, but your suspicions are misplaced. If you, yourself, had made an inane request of me, it's just as likely that I would have granted it, what with being caught up in _the Christmas spirit_ and everything... It seemed innocuous enough, but if you're so troubled by it, you're welcome to do what you will with the damned lipstick. It makes no difference to me. Now, are you going to tell me how you'd like your eggs, or are you going to sulk all morning over trivialities that don't concern me in the slightest?"

Looking somewhat chastened, Hermione set the lipstick back on the table where she'd found it, and took up the paper bag. "Scrambled is fine," she announced haughtily, before turning toward the bedroom with a pinched expression, toting the bag of toiletries as she exited the room with as much dignity as she could muster.

...

* * *

><p>The odd couple ate their breakfast mostly in silence, occasionally darting surreptitious glances at one another between bites. When her plate had been completely cleared, Hermione sat back in her chair and finally looked up at her professor openly.<p>

"So am I allowed to ask anything about those 'important errands' you ran last night? Or is that another secret I'm too fragile to be trusted with?"

Snape gave her a withering look as he wiped the corners of his mouth with his napkin, pushing his own plate away as he sat back in turn.

"As it happens, I was acquiring some texts that I believe might shed some light on recent developments."

"What 'recent developments'?"

"Do you recall our last Legilimency session?"

"Only the beginning of it; it's the last thing I remember before waking up in bed with you."

Severus ignored this last remark, unwilling to rise to the provocation. "That is, of course, because Nina was woken up in the process. During that session, I happened upon another memory of hers— rather, this memory _happened upon me_, more precisely— and I have cause to believe that there may be a line of investigation there worth pursuing."

Anticipating her next question, Severus raised a hand to delay her. "I would prefer that you do not ask me about the explicit nature of the memory. It was not particularly pleasant. Suffice it to say that there is a component to Nina's magical impairment that I may have overlooked."

"You mean, you know why she can't perform magic?"

"I mean that I _may _know why she can't _outwardly_ perform magic with a wand, but, as I said, I need to consult the texts I acquired last night."

"How did you acquire them?"

Severus paused before replying, "I had to travel a fair distance, but I was able to discreetly infiltrate a Wizarding library."

"A _library? _You were out in public in a Wizarding community? I thought you were hiding from someone?"

Severus really didn't care for the censure in her tone. "I never said I was in hiding — and I told you, I was discreet."

"I think it's perfectly obvious that you don't want to be found. Honestly, Professor, what else am I to conclude, being brought all the way out here with you? I know you cherish your solitude, but really — this doesn't strike me as the kind of place you'd settle in if you didn't have any other choice."

"So... you fancy you have some kind of insight into my personal tastes now, do you? My, my... I can't put anything past _you_..." he drawled bitterly, "Does the know-it-all have a theory as to _why _I'd wish to avoid any disruptive encounters out here, aside from the obvious reasons?" He flashed her a mockingly anticipatory expression as she scowled at him, before continuing, "What? No guesses? What a surprise. She's all empty speculation. In fact, that seems to be your forte."

"That's because _you're not telling me anything!_" She retorted, "What else can I do at this point but 'speculate' about what's going on around here? Do you expect me to sit around patiently, waiting for you to invade my mind, or for some trampy alter ego of mine to take over and play around with cosmetics while I disappear to who-knows-where?"

Severus furrowed his brows in consternation, unwilling to grant that she had a point.

"Do you know what I think, Sir?" She asked, fixing him with a penetrating stare. She continued without waiting for him to reply. "I think you're just belittling my intelligence because I'm on to something, and you don't want me to know more than I already do. But, guess what: you can't stop me from _thinking._ If you don't want to tell me certain things, I suppose I can't force you to do otherwise, but you're very much mistaken if you think I'm just going to sit back and ignore my instincts, and right now, my instincts are telling me that you're full of crap."

Severus' eyes widened at her last remark for a fraction of a second, before narrowing again quickly.

"Are you quite finished?" he drawled, an eyebrow lifting in expectation.

"Hardly, but I think that will do for the moment." She crossed her arms again as she resettled against the back of her chair, her gaze determinedly meeting his own. He regarded her appraisingly for a tense moment before addressing her again.

"Well then. If you'll excuse me, I have quite a few preparations to make before our next Legilimency session. That is, if you're up for another round?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes in confusion, replying, "What? That's it? You have nothing else to say to me?"

"What else is there to say, Miss Granger? Shall I waste more time repeating myself, arguing the same tired issues over and over with you? Shall I tell you that you raise valid points, and offer placating sentiments while dancing around subjects I consider closed? We both know you're more intelligent than that. Shall I tell you that I appreciate your candor? That I find your impertinence endearing? Is that what you want to hear?"

"You're impossible."

"And you, my dear, are exceptionally perceptive," he replied sardonically, tossing his napkin onto his plate as he pushed back from the table, rising to clear it. Hermione's mouth twisted as she watched him from beneath her furrowed brow, struggling to ignore the unwelcome giddiness that followed his endearment, however cloaked it might've been in derision.

"Thank you for breakfast," she said with false cordiality, "I will, of course, be ready for you to invade my private thoughts whenever you need me. Please take your time. In the meantime I'll be painting my fingernails, sorting laundry, and perhaps staring off into space. Enjoy the rest of your morning, Professor."

With that, she pushed back abruptly from the table, spun around with her head held high, and returned to the bedroom with enough dramatic flair to rival the Potion Master's any day. Severus tensed his jaw as he watched her go, wondering how on Earth he'd managed to muck up breakfast so easily. So far, it was shaping up to be another dreadful Christmas.

...

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN**__**: **My goodness, you guys really aren't into those interludes, are you...? Are we all clear that Chapter 28 was just a set of nightmares? I hope this chapter has alleviated some concerns! You didn't think I'd make it too easy for these two, did you? Please stick with it, it will get better... (;_

_PS: For anyone interested, I posted some dream analysis in the reviews for Chapter 28. Feel free to PM me if you missed it, or want further clarification; I'm here to help!  
><em>


	30. Chapter 30

Chapter 30

.

Hermione stood in front of the bathroom mirror, scrutinizing her appearance. The facial cleanser she'd just used didn't seem to make much of a difference in her complexion; at least, she couldn't tell if there was a "radiant glow," as the label said there would be. She supposed there might've been a hint of it, but the truth was, she wasn't familiar enough with her reflection these days to note any subtle changes. To her, each time she looked in the mirror was like looking at a new person; she knew the old Hermione was still there underneath, but on the surface there was a girl much prettier, much more grown-up than the girl she still imagined herself to be. She was almost intimidated by this new person— as silly as it made her feel to admit it— in the same way a girl often is when she steps into high-heeled shoes for the first time; she felt beautiful, but also unsure of herself, not knowing how to carry such beauty gracefully. She couldn't get over the feeling that she was some kind of pretender.

She'd found the cleanser in the bag of toiletries Snape had given her, along with a moisturizer that promised to impart a "fresh, dewy look." She applied this sparingly, appreciating its soft, powdery scent. She angled her head to examine the result, unable to decide whether it made much difference at all. With a sigh, she concluded that she probably just wasn't sophisticated enough yet to appreciate proper beauty products. It bothered her to suspect that Nina was more advanced than her in this arena.

Reaching into the pocket of her shorts (at first she'd been infuriated with Nina for destroying the cargo pants, but it was too hot out today to pretend she didn't appreciate the inescapable skin exposure), she pulled out the tube of lipstick she'd snuck away with when Snape hadn't been looking. Her first thought had been to destroy it, to get back at Nina for the cargo pants. Now, after some deliberation, she was compelled to experiment. She'd never worn such a bold shade before, and she wondered whether she could pull it off. It was, in all fairness, a rather lovely, dark shade of red: "Red Taboo," she read on the little sticker she found on its base. She wondered how Snape had chosen it; _had he just plucked it up at random, or had he given thought to the choices available? If so, what made him go for this particular shade of red? Had he considered her coloring, imagining how the shade would look on her lips? Had he picked a color that appealed to him, personally? Was he looking forward to seeing it on her?..._

Rousing herself from her troubling thoughts, Hermione twisted the metal base and watched, transfixed, as the dark red peak spiraled up from its golden sheath. Looking apprehensively at the mirror, she carefully pressed the tip against her lower lip, slowly spreading its dark color over the dusky pink skin, watching it glide smoothly over the surface, staining wherever it touched. She moved to the upper lip when the lower had been filled out, carefully tracing the plump line of her mouth until all the pink had been covered in deep crimson. Instinctively pressing her lips together to set the color (as she'd watched Parvati and Lavender do so many times before), she released them with a sensual _pop_, straightening up as she moved away from the mirror to take in the full effect. She was barely aware of the dull pounding in her head as she stood there, staring at her reflection with her lips slightly parted. Her eyes seemed to darken as awareness slowly set in; awareness of her sensuality; awareness of a hitherto unrecognized _power_, which seemed to radiate from every fibre of her being.

With a sudden jolt her body fell forward as her balance wavered, and she managed to catch herself on the rim of the sink just in time. She shook her head as the dull pounding subsided, taking a moment to orient herself to her surroundings. _What just happened?..._

She was holding a tube of lipstick... looking into the mirror, she could see that she was wearing it... _when did I...?_ With a wave of realization, it suddenly made sense... _That sneaky little brat! She stole my lipstick!_

Nina's glower of annoyance suddenly subsided, replaced by a growing smirk as a scandalous idea occurred to her. Somehow, she'd woken up in Hermione's place in the middle of the day... and, for the moment, _she was the only one who knew it_...

...

As he sat on the sofa, one long leg crossed over the other, Severus turned another page in his heavy volume of Dylan Marwood's _Veelas: A Comprehensive Study, _his brow furrowed as he carefully read over each page, looking for anything that might lend support to the theory that he had been working on ever since his last foray into Hermione's mind. On the table beside him, a copy of E. Limus' _Olde & Forgotten Bewitchments and Charmes _waited for his intensive perusal_. _Together, he was sure that these two volumes would yield the information he was seeking; he hoped it was only a matter of time before he made the right connections. He didn't look up as he heard the bathroom door open, hoping that Hermione would have the foresight not to bother him while he was researching.

Fortunately she remained quiet, though he was acutely aware of her lingering presence in the room. She seemed to waver uncertainly in his peripheral vision, as if debating whether to approach him or not. After waiting in vain for her to make up her mind, Severus drawled, without looking up from his book, "If you insist on loitering about, you might as well make yourself useful." He then took up the copy of _Olde & Forgotten Bewitchments... _and held it out to her, his eyes still fixed on the book perched on his lap.

Nina approached him tentatively, excited that her ruse seemed to be working for now, but anxious that she might somehow give herself away. Her plan, for the moment, was to speak as little as possible, and observe how Severus interacted with Hermione. That she might be given a reading assignment never factored into her scheme.

As she took the proffered book, Severus continued, "You can scan the text for any references to arcane forms of wandless magic, noting any that are spontaneous or unintentional, and especially any that contain a _sexual _component. Do you understand?"

Nina simply nodded in response, and Severus glanced at her curiously, having expected a flurry of questions, or at least some enthusiastic commentary. _Is she not surprised by this line of investigation? ...Perhaps she knows something already?_

"Is there anything you'd like to add, Miss Granger?" he asked skeptically, lifting a questioning eyebrow in her direction. He noticed that her mouth looked slightly swollen, as if she'd been rubbing away lipstick. _She must've been playing with it in the bathroom..._

"No, sir," she replied, twisting her mouth in a funny way as she opened the book and sat down beside him, a twinkle of mischief in her eye. Severus frowned, narrowing his eyes at her. _She knows something!_

"If you have any input regarding this line of research, now is the time to share it."

Nina just looked up at him innocently, cocking her head slightly as if she didn't understand what he wanted from her. Thoroughly confused, Severus huffed and thrust a scrap of parchment and spare quill on the table in front of her.

"You can record your findings here. Please try to abstain from interrupting me as much as possible. Is that clear?"

Nina nodded happily at him and looked back at the book with a strange smile, further baffling the man beside her. Unwilling to waste time deciphering her strange behavior, Severus shifted in his seat until he was comfortable again, returning to his book with a small frown.

_Well, at least I know he's not too friendly with her, _Nina thought, satisfied so far that there was nothing outwardly worrisome about Severus' relationship with Hermione. As she turned to the first page of the book he'd given her, her vision swam as she took in the unusual, antiquated language it was written in. _This is barely even proper English! _she lamented, suddenly daunted by the task that had been set for her. _Do I really have to sit here and read this shit?_

After flipping through a few pages and finding only more of the same, Nina sighed and closed the book, causing Severus to look at her in confusion.

"Is there a problem, Miss Granger?"

"Actually, yes. I was kind of hoping we could do something else today."

Severus lowered his book and regarded her critically, with a look that both suggested that she explain herself, and warned her that her explanation was not likely to be well-received.

"Why don't we... go out... or something? It's so hot in here; maybe we could go someplace... cooler?" Nina looked back at him innocently, waiting to see if he'd take the bait and offer to take Hermione to the grotto, despite his promise not to.

"What are you nattering on about, girl?" He asked, nonplussed, "You know perfectly well that it's not safe to leave this place, and that there's too much work to be done, regardless. Is the heat so severe that you've lost leave of your senses?"

"Are you _sure_ there's nowhere nearby that would be safe enough?" she persisted, "Someplace we could escape the heat? Surely there must be _somewhere_..."

Severus wondered for a moment whether Hermione had somehow found out about the grotto, and was attempting to trap him. _How much could she know? _He stared at her speculatively for a moment, before replying, lowly, "There is no such place."

Nina suppressed a smile, thrilled he was keeping his promise to her, but not giddy enough to give herself away just yet. Instead, she feigned a small frown and looked away. "Oh," she replied lightly, "that's too bad, then."

Severus squinted at her before continuing, "If you don't want to assist me in this you're welcome to find some other way to occupy yourself, so long as you don't interfere with my research."

"Oh all right," she sighed, surprising Severus as she tossed the book aside irreverently and leaned back against the sofa, crossing her arms with a small degree of petulance. Severus waited a moment, expecting her to take her leave, perplexed when she didn't seemed inclined to move. At length she looked up at him, wondering why he was staring at her.

"What?" she asked, looking back at him like he owed her an explanation for his scrutiny.

He replied, "Do you intend to sit there and pout like a spoilt child, or will you leave me in peace?"

Nina let out a harsh laugh of surprise, looking mildly insulted. "Am I bothering you?"

"Your presence is disconcerting, yes."

"Why?"

"If you're not here to work, you have no reason to remain seated here."

"Since when has this become your private office?"

"Miss Granger, your attitude is becoming increasingly insufferable. I suggest that you promptly remove yourself before I lose my patience."

Nina realized she was treading on thin ice, but was having too much fun to quit so soon. "What will happen if I don't?" she asked, trying her damnedest not to smirk suggestively.

"Do you really want to find out?" He countered, his voice becoming deliciously dangerous.

_I rather do... _she thought. "No, sir," she said.

"Then remove yourself."

Severus watched as Hermione's mouth twisted in that funny way again, and he couldn't shake the suspicion that, somehow, she was finding this amusing. Nevertheless, she rose from the sofa, taking her sweet time as she made her way slowly across the room, her fingers ghosting across edges of the furniture she passed, until finally stopping in the open doorway, leaning against the doorjamb and looking out into the distance as she stretched one leg out in front of her, pressing her toes against the opposite side of the doorway. Realizing his attention was unaccountably drawn to her bare feet again, Severus looked away, distractedly resuming his reading.

Nina looked over at Severus after a long while, growing bored with the quiet atmosphere. She'd sunk down along the doorjamb to rest on the threshold, one leg dangling off onto the porch, the other bent and resting just inside the doorway. If her posture was un-Hermione-like, she was too hot and lazy to care.

"Can I ask you a question?"

Severus took in a deep, sharp breath and looked up from his reading to glare at the wall across from him. When he didn't seem inclined to respond further, Nina continued, "Do you like Nina?"

Finally looking at her, Nina watched as Severus' expression went from perturbed to guarded in an instant.

"Why do you ask?" He answered flatly.

"...I don't know... I just want to know."

"Miss Granger, this jealousy routine is becoming quite tiresome."

Nina's eyes widened before she replied, "You think I'm jealous of her?"

"We've been over this already," he sighed.

Nina felt a rush of pleasure... _If she's jealous of me, I must be doing something right..._

"You still haven't answered my question," she persisted, more curious than ever.

"If you must know, I find both of you rather tiresome."

"Yes, but do you _like _her?"

"What are you asking, precisely?"

"You know."

Severus pursed his lips, wondering when she'd gotten so bold.

"This line of questioning is becoming inappropriate."

"I just want to know if you like her! If you think that's inappropriate, you must be withholding a very juicy answer..."

"Why do you sound so _gleeful_ about the possibility?"

"Should I interpret your inability to answer as proof that you _do like her_?"

"Interpret as you wish. It's not my concern if you choose to delude yourself."

"How am _I _deluded if it's _her _that you like?"

Severus paused before continuing lightly, "I suppose you imagine that you and she are so similar, that for me to find pleasure in one is tantamount to finding the same in the other."

"...So... you 'find pleasure' in her, then? Wow..."

"I didn't say that."

"Yes, you did."

"Miss Granger, I don't find this nonsense amusing."

"Only because I found you out."

With a withering look that said he considered the conversation at an end, Severus lifted his book and determinedly resumed where he left off. With a self-satisfied hum, Nina relaxed against the doorjamb, content with the knowledge that Severus did, indeed, like her. _Finds me 'pleasing,' even! Ha!_

Nina waited all of two minutes before starting up again.

"...Professor?" She asked, just stopping short of accidentally addressing him by his given name. When his eyes rolled up dramatically to glare at the opposite wall again, she ventured, "Do you like _me_?"

Severus froze, wondering what on Earth was prompting her to be so brazen this morning. _Perhaps waking up in bed with him had made her feel entitled to certain privileges..._

"I refuse to answer any more of your impertinent questions, Miss Granger. Please desist immediately, before I banish you to the bedroom."

"Well, then. I guess that's a resounding 'no'..."

Slamming his book shut in frustration, Severus turned to her with a long-suffering look. "Is your self esteem really so poor that you must persist in tormenting me all morning until I either crush your ego entirely, or offer you some paltry gratification? I have _no patience_ for this sort of baiting; why don't you just come out and say whatever it is that's really bothering you, and we'll settle this once and for all, and_ be done with it_?"

Nina cocked her head at him in response, biting her lip as she formulated her reply.

"Take care, Miss Granger," he continued; "I am giving you _one opportunity only_ to ask whatever it is you really want to ask; after this, I'll hear no more about it."

"Fine," she said, standing up and walking over to him, causing him to tense as she took her seat beside him again. _Why does she need to be so near to ask whatever she means to ask? _Severus swallowed inconspicuously as she adjusted herself, turning toward him with her hands gripping her knees, arms taught. She made a funny face, apparently training her expression into a serious one before asking, "Who would you rather fuck... me, or Nina?"

Nina had all of twelve seconds to watch Severus' face morph from open shock to embarrassment, from embarrassment to confusion, from confusion to suspicion, and finally, from suspicion to realization. _Why, that conniving little..._

"Nina," he drawled, pronouncing her name with wicked emphasis, "of course."

The girl beside him burst out laughing, finally releasing the fit of giggles she'd been holding back ever since her game began. "Oh, God!" she cried, "the _look on your face!_"

Severus frowned deeply as she collapsed across his lap, curling her knees up to her torso as her chest ached from the force of her laughter.

"That was _not funny,_" he spat, only making her shake harder with another fit of hilarity.

"Oh yes, it was!" she cried, her strained voice breaking as she swiped at the tears in her eyes. "You thought I was her! You didn't even see it coming! That was _so great!_"

Resigned to the fact that he wasn't going to be able to resume his reading for at least another several minutes, Severus just scowled at the hysterical creature in his lap, annoyed with the deception but secretly relieved that it hadn't been Hermione, after all, taking such liberties with him. With Nina, he could hardly be surprised.

"Are you almost finished?" Severus asked impatiently as Nina's laughter calmed down to snickering aftershocks. Nina rolled her head from its position in his lap, facing him with a wry smile as she reached up to pat his cheek playfully.

"Yes, I've had my fun. I wish I could've made it last longer, but I just couldn't help myself."

"Indeed," Severus replied sullenly, raising a disapproving eyebrow.

"Oh, don't be like that," she teased, taking his face in both hands as she beamed up at him, "Admit it: I got you good, and you're secretly impressed with me."

"I will admit no such thing," he drawled, removing her hands from his face, but not releasing her wrists. "I've spent the last seventeen years of my life engaged in high-risk espionage. If you think I'd be impressed by someone who succeeds at impersonating _their own_ _alter ego_, think again."

"Bollocks. I fooled you, and that's impressive enough."

"If you say so," Severus sighed, nudging Nina off his lap. "Now, if you're done mucking about, I _do _have important work to continue."

"What's a 'Veela,' anyway?" Nina asked, eyeing the cover of the book Severus had been engrossed in.

Severus gave her a long look before responding, "They are a kind of magical species, humanoid in all aspects, but capable of superhuman powers."

"Like what?"

"...They can seduce effortlessly, for one. They can also be quite formidable."

Nina considered this with raised brows, wondering why such a being would be relevant to her ordeal.

"Wait a minute..." she started, looking up at Severus with suspicion, "...do you think that _I'm _one of those, now?"

Severus looked uncomfortable as he replied, "No... that would be impossible. You would've been identified as such long before now, had that been the case."

"Then why the heavy reading?"

"If you must know, you have exhibited certain... qualities... that are not so far removed from those attributed to this species. I'm hoping that there may be answers here that might indirectly relate to what I've witnessed."

"You mean, you think I'm some kind of seductress?" she smiled, leaning back and nudging Severus with her leg.

"Surely there's no question that you have your... talents... but I believe it might be infinitely more complex than that."

"Gosh..." she beamed, "I don't know whether to be flattered or worried."

"Worried, how?"

"Well, I can't have you discovering all my secrets now, can I?" She teased, her foot inching up onto his lap before he pushed it away with a huff.

"Oh, alright then," she sighed, "I'll let you get back to your big book of vixens." Standing up, Nina made a show of stretching right in front of him, her arms raised high above her head, intentionally flaunting her midriff. "But..." she continued, leaning forward suddenly to brace the back of the sofa on either side of Severus' head, causing him to lunge back as she swooped down to invade his space, mounting his lap as her legs pressed in against the outside of his thighs, "...if you think you could benefit from a more _practical _approach to the subject, you know I'd be _more than willing to oblige_..." Severus held his breath as Nina took his face in both of her hands again, teasing him as her lips hovered centimeters away from his, before crooking another sly smile and quickly pecking his cheek with a light kiss. She then patted his face from side to side with each hand as she rose to her feet again, winking at him teasingly before trotting off with a satisfied smirk.

Severus rubbed his face where she'd kissed him as he watched her disappear with a wary expression, wondering whether he'd been too hasty in dismissing the possibility that the girl carried any Veela blood, after all...

...

_**A/N**__**: We're getting closer...** _


	31. Chapter 31

Chapter 31

.

Nina rolled onto her chest, sighing as her heated skin felt cool the moment she turned away from the sun. She knew it wouldn't take long for her backside to start burning as well, but, for now, it felt almost blissful. Clad only in her pink bikini, Nina's body could feel every nuance of the light breeze that periodically swept over the porch, offering slight relief from the oppressive heat. Being the incredibly sensual creature that she undoubtedly was, it felt like being showered in a hundred light kisses at once, and she delighted in it. Though the sun beating down on her was nearly painful in its intensity, she liked pushing her body's threshold to its limits, and made an offering of her pale skin as if it were an act of consecration, joyfully surrendering to its fiery domination. If she was going to burn, it would be because she asked for it.

...

"_Take heed: the Veela is, above all, charismatic. Too often, the full extent of their capabilities is underestimated by the casual observer, who would foolhardily assume that their charms could not extend beyond the superficial; then, having successfully avoided entrapment at this level, such a dilettante will allow themselves to be drawn in to far more insidious schemes, never realizing their mistake until they are incontrovertibly mired in them. Woe to the man who believes himself immune to their charms! Such a man is surely doomed, for there is nothing more appealing to a Veela than a man who thinks himself mightier than she."_

Severus paused in his reading, considering his own predicament. _How far had he already been drawn in by Nina? _he wondered, comparing the girl, however ungenerously, to the femme fatales in question. Though he still didn't suspect Nina of possessing actual Veela blood, herself (though he had considered the possibility that some might've remained dormant within her, unnoticed, then had possibly been released during whatever episode that had led to her psychological fragmentation), he did suspect that there was more to the girl than he had been aware of, and that she might be in possession of Veela-like powers...

As he read further, his attention was piqued by several passages describing the ultimate fate of the sorry men who resist the lure of a Veela woman. He grimaced as the consequences were described in rather graphic detail; _this is nearly as unpleasant as some of the more unsavory Dark Arts texts,_ he pondered. The author continued:

"_Alas, there is but one surefire way to avoid such a messy end, for the unfortunate man whom a Veela has assuredly set her sights upon: namely, capitulation. However, this is not equivalent to giving up; to the wise man, there is strategic advantage in surrender. For, more often than not, the Veela will tire of her toy the moment it stops resisting; when there is nothing left for her to take from him— when he has given all of himself, completely and without arrogance or inhibition— she will withdraw.*" _

Noticing the footnote accompanying this last statement, Severus' eyes darted to the bottom of the page:

" _*The only exception can be found in very rare cases in which the Veela herself becomes infatuated with her prey. For more on this phenomenon (which is known among specialists as 'Lamia Syndrome') see: Endemic Maladies, pages 289 through 324."_

"Prescriptive, dogmatic hogwash," Severus spat, slamming the book shut and tossing it onto the coffee table. Dylan Marwood's style of writing had never appealed to Severus in the past, and he had been disheartened to find that Marwood was the foremost authority on the Veela species known in the contemporary Wizarding World. Little else existed on the topic in any great detail, as the species were still quite exotic to modern research. Few had been able to successfully approach the elusive creatures on strictly professional grounds, and fewer still had returned from such undertakings with coherent, publishable results.

If Marwood's advice to Severus was to surrender to Nina's will, Marwood was clearly a total hack. _Isn't he?..._

...

Nina had heard Severus approach, and knew that he was staring at her from the open doorway. Still lying on her stomach, she shifted her body just so, knowing that Severus was watching the sway of her backside as she transferred her weight to one side.

"You're going to burn," Severus warned her, noticing the pink flush that was already forming on her exposed skin.

Nina glanced over her shoulder at him and smirked. "I can handle a little heat," she assured him, her tone suggestive as ever.

Severus gave her a flat look, replying, "I'd prefer it if you didn't cook yourself. I've prepared a light lunch; why don't you join me." The finality in his tone made it clear that he wasn't asking.

"Oh, all right," Nina sighed, rolling onto her back and stretching with a girlish yawn before pushing herself up onto her elbows to ask, "Unless you want to join me down here?" Rubbing a place beside her on the quilt, she continued, "There's room enough for two..."

Severus just gave her a look suggesting that he was less than amused by her proposition, and turned back into the house.

Nina tossed herself onto her back again with a sigh, wondering when he was going to give her the time of day again. It was Christmas eve, and there was only one thing that Nina wanted with all of her heart, soul... and other specific parts of herself...

...

As Nina dipped another apple wedge in the honey dish, Severus noticed the way her shoulder seemed to smart as she tried to hide a wince of discomfort. She glanced up at him as she bit into the sweet snack, acutely aware of his scrutiny. His raised eyebrow spoke volumes.

"Alright, so I got a little sun-burnt after all," she admitted after swallowing the morsel, "it's no big deal."

"You shouldn't have lain out in that sun for so long," he chided; "that was incredibly foolish of you."

Nina frowned and looked away, dipping her half-eaten apple piece back in the honey.

"...It's rude to dip into the bowl after you've taken a bite," Severus complained, holding a wedge of his own as he waited for her to remove her hand.

Nina scoffed, dramatically stuffing the fruit into her mouth with a defiant expression as Severus looked on disapprovingly. She watched in amusement as he scooped up a portion of honey at the furthermost edge of the dish, avoiding the spot her fruit had just touched.

"You've had your tongue in my mouth," she reminded him slyly as he bit into the fruit, "_All over it_, as I recall... you can hardly be so offended that I'm _double-dipping_."

Severus just scowled back at her as he slowly chewed his food, unconsciously staring at said mouth, recalling her taste as she laughed at him. Her laugh died off quickly as her body shook, and her hand rose to gingerly touch the smarting skin at her shoulder. Severus could see that the pink flush on her skin was darkening, gradually turning an angry shade of red.

"Look at yourself; you've completely fried your back," Severus remarked disdainfully, rising from his seat to cross over to her. Nina winced as he carefully lifted her arm, studying her damaged skin before gently lifting her hair to better examine the skin of her back, above the line of her camisole.

After hissing with a sharp intake of breath at the sorry sight, he scolded, "Well done. In a few minutes you'll be as red as a hothouse tomato."

Nina cringed as he lowered her hair, already missing the cool relief that the exposure momentarily provided.

"I'm going to get a hair clip," she muttered, rising from her seat. From the way she moved as she walked into the bathroom, Severus could tell that she was already in pain, and knew she would soon be feeling even worse.

After securing her hair into a loose chignon, Nina opened the cabinet below the bathroom sink, dimly remembering something she thought she'd seen when she'd rifled through there the first time.

"Aha!" She exclaimed, "Oh, thank God!"

Returning to the living room with a stiff gait, Nina held up the tube of aloe vera gel for Severus to see.

"It's definitely been in there awhile, but I don't think this stuff ever goes bad," she speculated, twisting off the crusty cap to take a small sample in her hand. After sniffing it and finding it pleasant enough, she rubbed the dollop into her shoulder.

"Oooh, that feels great," she whispered, closing her eyes at the cool relief. "Will you rub some on my back?"

Severus regarded her uncomfortably as she looked to him with imploring eyes, wanting very much to refuse her request, but unable to do so when she looked so helpless.

"I have a healing potion that would probably be more effective," he muttered.

"How long does it take to work?" She asked skeptically.

"...a few hours at most," he replied honestly. Her face made it obvious that she was less than thrilled with the idea of waiting so long for relief.

"I'll take it if it will help, but I'm burning up _right now,_" she complained. "Can't you help me out while I'm waiting for the potion to set in?"

If she didn't look so genuinely needy, Severus might not have given in. As it was, he was finding it more and more difficult to deny her. _How much harm could it do?_

"If you insist," Severus muttered, drawing his wand to summon the potion. "You'll need to take this with plenty of water," he said, turning to the kitchen for a glass.

"Alright... thank you, Severus," Nina answered, "I'll meet you in the bedroom."

Before Severus could question why it was necessary to go in there, she had already left the room. He warily suspected that he was getting into more than he bargained for.

When Severus returned to Nina with the water and potion, he stopped short in the doorway at the sight of her laying chest-down on the bed, her camisole discarded, dressed only in her pink bikini briefs. His throat went dry as he realized the full extent of what he'd gotten himself into.

Hearing his approach, Nina turned to face him, not smirking at him, as he expected, but wincing with the movement. Her entire back was bright red, as were the backs of her legs, all the way down to her calves. She sat up carefully as he approached, reaching for the glass. Severus was unsuccessful at averting his eyes from her exposed breasts, and swallowed nervously as he moved stiffly beside her. Her front-side wasn't nearly as badly burnt, but was quite pink all over, with the all-too-noticeable exception of her pale, perfectly-rounded breasts. The tan line from her bikini was clearly defined, making her breasts appear all the more succulent, so that they seemed practically luminous in contrast to the rest of her; Severus had never seen such a sight before — the overall effect was undeniably erotic.

At her small cough, Severus' attention returned to Nina's face; she was smirking at him almost shyly as she raised an eyebrow, still reaching for the glass. Severus looked embarrassed as he handed it over, clumsily removing the stopper of the potion vial before placing it in her free hand.

"Do I swallow the whole thing?" she asked. Unable to trust his voice, Severus simply nodded in response.

Nina sniffed at the vial, raising questioning eyes to Severus as she took in the harsh smell. "You're sure this stuff is safe?"

"I brewed it myself," he managed to reply, the rough sound of his voice eliciting a smirk that she unsuccessfully tried to hide.

Tipping back the contents, Nina cringed at the taste, quickly following it with water as Severus took the empty vial back from her. When she'd downed the last of it, she returned the glass to him and carefully resettled herself on the bed, placing the tube of aloe gel within easy reach.

Clearing his throat, Severus moved to sit at the edge of the bed beside her, methodically removing the cap on the tube and squeezing a generous portion of the green goo into his palm. Nina watched him over her shoulder, a strange thrill coursing through her with the expectation of his hands on her body.

At the first moment of contact, Nina gasped at the surprising coolness. Severus felt her muscles contract beneath his fingers, and felt an answering constriction in his trousers. Assiduously ignoring his inevitable arousal, he directed his attention to his task with as much surgical detachment as he could summon.

He moved slowly, every gesture precise. Despite the cooling relief of the aloe, the slight roughness of his hands from years of exposure to potions equipment and thorny ingredients was easily apparent to Nina's acutely sensitive skin; the heady combination of pleasurable and borderline painful sensations had her biting her lip in blissful agony. She wanted so much more than this, but, for now, she was in a strange kind of heaven.

Severus' hands traced gently over her raw shoulders, applying copious amounts of gel to the excessively-heated zone. Nina sighed beneath him, keeping perfectly still as he worked his magic. She loved the feeling of being laid out before him as she was— vulnerable and helpless— a slave to his capable hands. A little further south of his careful attentions, she was becoming more wet than she had ever been before. She silently willed him to move lower.

As if in response to her will, Severus' hands drifted slowly down her back, his motions becoming more and more irregular as his concentration became increasingly muddled. His hands were wandering at whim now, no longer conforming to any rigorous procedure. As they skimmed lightly across her lower back, Nina's hips lifted up slightly as his finger trailed along the edge of her bikini briefs, her movement beckoning for him to remove them.

Severus looked up at her with a slightly dazed expression as she turned to peer at him over her shoulder, eyes heavy-lidded and consenting. _Does she want me to take these off?_

He never knew what made him do it. There was no forethought, no consideration. He simply slipped his long fingers under the loops at either side of her hips, and tugged, slowly peeling away the taught fabric as he held his breath, focusing with the same concentration he'd apply when he was about to unleash some very dark magic.

The bikini briefs curled away beneath his purposeful fingers as he revealed her full buttocks to his searing gaze. He gently guided the extraneous scrap of fabric down the length of her slender legs before tossing it aside, leaving her completely bare before him. The tan lines around her perfect little bum made it seem to _pop_ like the most juicy, decadent fruit; his mouth watered with the impulse to bite it.

Eyes flashing to meet hers, Severus was startled to see Nina blushing slightly, the skin of her rosy cheeks nearly matching that of her sun-abused arms. The sight of her apparent shyness nearly made him lose his cool as his neglected cock throbbed in protest.

Taking another dollop of aloe in hand, Severus began working it into the flushed backs of her thighs, skimming tenderly over her calves before gradually working his way upwards again. The gel absorbed quickly, and Nina bit down on her lip as his caresses became more and more firm, unaware that the friction he was creating was almost unbearable to her. She bore it, though, with soundless protest, not wanting him to stop short of his imminent goal.

As his strokes continued to glance across the hot, firm flesh of her upper thighs, Nina inhaled deeply and allowed her legs to part a little. Severus' movements faltered as he looked between the parted thighs, noticing glimmers of light glistening off the pink, swollen flesh barely hidden from view. Nina cringed as his hand gripped her tender thigh in response. He was unthinkingly digging his fingers deeply into her already-smarting skin, forcing her right thigh to open wider, further revealing her to him.

Nina watched him, her breath held painfully as he tilted his head to get a better view, completely absorbed in the erotic sight laid out before him. Mouth parted in awe, he slipped his hand further up her thigh until his thumb slipped over her slick folds, causing him to exhale a shuddering breath. Nina also exhaled at his touch, and his eyes flicked to hers, almost frightening her with their intensity as they blazed, viper black.

Keeping his gaze locked on hers, his thumb moved again until it found her swollen clit, circling it with painful slowness as Nina let out a broken moan, looking properly tortured.

Her moan prompted him into action, and his other hand began fumbling with his trousers as he continued stroking her, drawing out her pleasure. Nina let out a strange cry of exultation when his engorged cock burst free, ruddy and intimidating in both length and girth, both her stomach and her pussy clenching in nervous anticipation as she beheld it.

Severus rose from the bed to shove off his trousers, then pulled his t-shirt impatiently over his head and looked over Nina's prone form hungrily before climbing on top of her. She cried out as his skin abraded against hers, the feel of him simultaneously thrilling and agonizing.

"Are you alright?" He gasped, pushing himself up to hover over her, trying to minimize his contact with her sore skin.

"Yes," she panted, "fuck... _please..._ don't stop!"

At her encouragement, Severus' mouth dropped to her reddened shoulder, his tongue tasting the hot, salty skin before lowering his teeth to scrape against it, causing her to gasp in little, faltering moans. Her skin smelled of sunshine, sweet, feminine sweat, and the faintest hint of cool aloe. With a low growl he bit down slowly, increasing pressure as she erupted in a piercing scream of agonized ecstasy. She could feel his rock-hard erection pressing into her hot thigh as he withdrew his teeth to press lazy, wet kisses over the tormented flesh, his lips trailing up her neck as she continued to nearly sob from the overload of sensation.

"S_hhhh_," he hushed gently in her ear, reaching down between her thighs to tease her folds, causing her to buck and whimper as he kissed the shell of her ear before whispering, "_Is this what you want?_"

"_Yes," _she sobbed, grinding futilely against his teasing hand as he breathed hotly against her ear.

Severus groaned as he rubbed his aching cock against her inner thigh, simultaneously slipping a long finger inside of her. She was so wet, so ready it almost hurt.

Nina cried out as his finger slid deep inside, prompting him to follow it quickly with another. _She's so tight_... he marveled absently... _How can she be so fucking tight?..._

With another blood-curdling growl, Severus plumbed deeper, surprised when Nina shifted uncomfortably from the increased penetration. She let out a strange-sounding moan, half-way between delight and trepidation. The air around them seemed to grow thick with something more than lust; something that was at once foreign and yet eerily familiar. Severus paused.

"Don't stop!" she pleaded, nearly hysterical, writhing beneath him and coaxing him on.

With a grunt, Severus shoved his fingers in again, this time noticing a definite resistance to his penetration. His body stilled as he moved his fingers around experimentally, tracing the inside of her sex. Nina whimpered in response, acutely aware of his every motion. After carefully stroking inside her in a circular movement with one long finger, Severus abruptly withdrew his hand as if he'd been burnt. _What the...?_

"Why are you stopping?" Nina asked breathlessly, peering over her shoulder with lust-heavy eyes as Severus sat back on his haunches with the strangest expression on his face.

"What's the matter?" She asked, her nervousness rising as he reached over the side of the bed suddenly before towering up again, wand in hand. "What are you going to do with that?"

With a heavy swallow, Severus looked at the naked girl carefully before quietly casting an incantation over her, watching with wide eyes as a set of softly-glowing, transparent runic symbols hovered over her prone form.

Nina watched in increasing concern as all the blood drained from the wizard's face, and he turned disbelieving eyes back onto her, the symbols slowly fading as he stared beyond them at the startled girl.

"What is it? What's wrong?" she asked, so quietly she could barely hear her own voice. When Severus just continued to look at her in that incredibly disconcerting way, she whispered, "You're scaring me..."

Severus faltered slightly, resettling himself on his rear as he waited for his heart to stop pounding as if it were trying to break free from his chest. He felt like his entire world had been turned upside down; like everything he thought he knew was only an illusion. _How is this possible?_

"You..." he tried, breaking off as his voice cracked, then clearing his throat before continuing again, softly:

"You're a virgin..."

...


	32. Chapter 32

Chapter 32

.

The Virgin Whore of Gryffindor

.

"_You're a virgin..."_

Nina stared back at Severus as she lay on her left side, her eyes rapidly scanning his as she struggled to comprehend him. ..._a virgin...?_

Finally a look of understanding came over her features, and she relaxed as everything suddenly made sense.

"_Oh... _I get it..." she replied, a tentative smile forming on her face, "Sure... I didn't realize you were into role play, but I totally get it..." lying back on her stomach as she assumed her previous position, she glanced over her shoulder coyly and continued, "_I'm just a naughty little virgin... please, mister..._ don't come any closer with that big, scary dick of yours! My sweet little virgin body couldn't handle it!"

"_Stop it,_" Severus rasped, still struggling to recover from his revelation.

"What's the matter?" she went on, in a saccharine voice, "Do you want me to _beg for it_? Is that the kind of virgin you want me to be?..."

Severus held his head in his hands, slowly dragging his fingers down his face as reality gradually set it. _How could I have been so daft?_

"...Severus?..." Nina was looking over her shoulder in concern, wondering why he wasn't participating. "...Am I doing something wrong?..."

Without answering, Severus suddenly rose from the bed and snatched up his clothing, urgently tugging his trousers back on over his deflating erection, ignoring the very unhappy protestations of his testicles.

"What are you doing?" Nina asked in alarm, "What's going on?"

Without looking at her, Severus gathered up the sheet from the end of the bed and draped it with care over her naked body. Awkwardly tugging his t-shirt back over his head, he pointedly stared at the floor as he muttered, "I think I'll go and fix some tea."

"Tea?" Nina echoed with rising incredulity, "_Tea? _Who needs tea?"

"I do," he murmured.

"What for? What's the matter with you? Why are you acting so strange?"

Apparently at a loss for words, Severus' mouth gaped soundlessly as he looked frantically around the room — anywhere but at Nina, herself. Without further ado, he made a strangled crying sort of noise and fled the bedroom, leaving Nina bereft and more than a little confused, sexually frustrated and dressed inexplicably in a bed sheet.

...

After lying around for long moments in the vain hope that Severus would get over whatever it was that spooked him and join her in bed again, Nina finally sighed in defeat and went to collect her satin dressing robe. The potion she'd taken earlier was slowly filtering through her body, already lessening the pain of her sunburn, but she still cringed as she pulled the cool material over her sore shoulders. Though being naked was infinitely more comfortable, she suspected that she'd be doing Severus no favors by confronting him in the buff.

Walking gingerly into the living room, she found Severus seated miserably on the sofa, nursing a steaming cup of tea. She approached him cautiously, hyper-aware of the fact that he was steadfastly refusing to look up at her as she approached. Sitting down beside him, she placed a careful hand on his knee, surprising both of them when he started slightly, spilling a few drops of tea before composing himself.

"...I'm sorry," Nina tried, furrowing her brows in confusion, "...I didn't mean to..."

"It's fine," Severus muttered, nervously swiping his brow with his fingertips before taking a slow sip of his beverage.

"Severus..." Nina started, "...what happened back there? ...I thought that you were... that _we _were..."

"It was a mistake," he quietly interrupted, sighing before murmuring, "...it was all a big, inexcusable mistake."

"...Why do I get the feeling you're talking about more than almost fucking me?" Nina asked with suspicion.

"_Don't be so crass,_" Severus scolded, looking at the ground in front of her, but never at her, "...It truly doesn't suit you," he said quietly.

"Severus," Nina replied in a patronizing voice, "You're clearly upset about more than hearing me say '_fuck_'..." she watched as he cringed at the word, continuing, "So why don't you come out and say whatever it is that's bothering you."

"...I already told you," he answered, with some difficulty. "...I didn't know... _how could I not have known? _...why didn't I _see_ it? It should've been _obvious!_"

"_What _should've been obvious?"

"I told you!" he cried, sounding nearly hysterical, "You're a _virgin!_ A bloody virgin!"

Nina's face scrunched up as she heard him call her that a second time, feeling that familiar pounding starting up in her head again.

"My God..." she answered quietly, "Are you insane? I thought you were only kidding around back there..."

"It's no joke," he answered angrily, still quite distraught. "It's no bloody joke."

"...but Severus, you _know _that I'm a whore..." she offered gently, watching him cringe at the appellation. "You know where I came from... you know what I've done..."

"But you never _did, _don't you see?" He pressed, finally looking in her general direction, though never at her eyes, "In all your memories, can you recall a single instance where you were _actually penetrated_?"

"Of course I can!"

"Can you, really?" he asked skeptically, "Think about it; think good and hard. Don't think about what you've been trained to believe; think about what you _actually know_. They altered your memories— made you think you were something you weren't— and then they put you out there, expecting you to _fuck_ their clients," (he spoke the word with disgust), "—but you never did! You only thought you did; _they _thought you did, but none of it ever actually happened! Every time, _every single time,_ it was interrupted, somehow... no one ever actually made it past your..." He broke off then, making another choking sound before taking a steadying sip of tea as he tried to calm down.

"You're wrong," Nina argued quietly, head pounding louder now, "That's impossible."

"It's true," he rasped, "I don't know how... not yet... but it's true... you're a virgin."

"Stop saying that!" Nina shouted, standing up abruptly, only to have a rush of blood cause her head to swim and her balance to waver. She fell back onto the sofa gracelessly, causing Severus to spill more of his tea before he set it down on the table across from him.

Wiping his hands on his shirt, he finally looked at her, asking, "Are you alright?"

As soon as his eyes met hers he looked away. "You can't even look at me," she said softly. "You can't face the truth. You want me to be _like her_— like the other one... but I'm not! ...I'm not that naïve... I'm not that innocent... I'm not... _I'm not_..."

Her words were fading as she tossed her head from side to side, falling back against the cushions as a sudden fit came over her.

"Nina?" Severus asked in alarm, "What's the matter?"

He gripped her lightly by the shoulders, trying to steady her as she continued to toss and turn as if in the throes of a nightmare. Her breaths were coming unevenly, and she was still muttering to herself, though it was difficult to make out what she was saying.

"Nina?"

"..._not... not... virg'n... 'm a... whore... jus... whore... ...nothing... an'... ...nobody..."_

With one deep gasp for air she finally sank back limply, laying motionless against the arm of the sofa with her head at an awkward angle. Severus worriedly pulled her into his arms, checking to make sure she was still breathing before drawing his wand to perform a quick diagnostic charm. The reading showed that she was unconscious, but otherwise in no serious harm. With a shuddering breath of relief, he settled back into a comfortable position and pulled the unconscious girl lightly against him, cradling her gently and stroking her hair out of her face as he allowed himself to relax, content that she was, at last, quite safe with him. He'd be damned if he was going to let anything happen to her now.

...

Severus woke with a deep breath, looking around and taking a moment to remember where he was and who he was holding. The girl in his arms had stirred, at last.

Looking down at her face, he watched— breath held— as her eyes fluttered open, focusing on him as she broke out in the most glorious smile he'd seen from her yet.

"You're here," she said softly.

"I am," he assured her, gently pushing her hair off her forehead.

"You found me," she smiled.

Severus looked at her curiously, wondering what she meant.

"_I've been waiting for you,_" she continued, lifting a tentative hand to stroke his face in a tender caress.

"...Nina?..." he asked, squinting his eyes as he wondered who had woken up this time (though his heart had skipped a beat at her touch, in a way Nina's touch had never quite managed to do...).

"Almost," she smiled enigmatically, "...but not quite."

Severus looked at her strangely, part of him hoping, secretly, that this was it— that she was actually back— but not daring to believe it.

"Who..." he tried, his voice cracking before he swallowed nervously.

"I waited for you," she continued, "...I knew you'd find me. I knew you'd come. That last time... at the shipyard... I wanted to wait for you then; I could've waited... but I knew what would happen if I did... I knew what you were planning to do, and I couldn't let you... I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, but..."

Her words were promptly cut off when Severus pressed his thumb gently against her lips, breathing fast as his eyes scanned hers desperately. She ardently returned his gaze, trying to convey everything in a single look. She managed to do exactly that; he understood. Slowly (so very slowly) leaning down, pulling her even closer against him, he took the back of her head in one hand and— once and for all— closed the distance between them that had separated them for so long. With trembling hands and watery eyes, Severus kissed Hermione. _His _Hermione. And she fervently kissed him back.

...

After some time (he'd never be able to recall how long), he pulled away gently, looking into Hermione's eyes with wonder. She smiled up at him shyly, pulling her bottom lip into her mouth before he moved to kiss her again, softly coaxing her lip back out as he trailed his lips lightly along hers, kissing her with such incredible affection that she melted against him, completely lost in his tender regard. As she trailed her hand lovingly against his cheek, her fingers came to rest against his lips as he moved away slightly, kissing her fingertips and looking at her with such unimaginable sweetness.

"I wish we could stay this way forever, but I'm afraid we don't have much time," she whispered.

Severus looked at her curiously, taking her hand in his and pulling it away from his lips to ask, "What do you mean?"

She looked back at him a little sadly and explained, "I'm sorry, Severus, but soon you'll wake up, and I won't be able to tell you what I need to unless I talk quickly."

Straightening up further with a look of incomprehension, he asked quietly, "This is only a dream?"

"No," she answered with a small smile, "not _only _a dream; it's much more than that... but unfortunately, you _will_ have to wake up." When he just looked at her questioningly, she continued, "I'm still in your arms— or Nina is, it doesn't really matter... we're all the same, you know— but I can finally speak with you now..." her eyes moved lovingly over his face as she went on, "_You found me_, finally... I've been trying to reach you for ages, using the link— that's right: it's still there," she explained, when he looked surprised. "But I haven't been able to get through to you, though I've needed your help. And, well... this afternoon, you reached out to me with your mind as you held me; you opened the link and got through to me— using some kind of unconscious form of Legilimency, I suppose— because now you can hear me... _you found me_..."

She smiled at him again, and the sheer happiness she was radiating was almost heartbreaking to behold.

"I don't understand... why hasn't this happened before?" he asked.

"I'm not sure... I think maybe when you realized that I was still a virgin, you started _really_ seeing me... because after that, I could feel the link opening up again... I could see everything so much clearer than before..."

"What do you mean? You've been aware of everything, all this time?" He asked, looking a little frightened.

"Not _aware_, really," she tried explaining, "...it was more like one of those dreams where you're watching things play out in front of you, and you're just an observer... it's like you're not really there, and you have only the smallest degree of influence on what's going on, if at all, but you're mostly just watching, trying to make sense of what's happening... you know?"

Severus looked confused, but nodded slowly.

Laughing, Hermione continued, "It's not important. I guess I was just kind of in the background of everything for a long time, letting Nina take over for me after I was Obliviated... that was a real nasty business, by the way... those idiots must not have known what they were doing, because part of me was able to hide, deep down in the back of my mind... for awhile I stayed there, on a kind of autopilot while Nina took care of things for me... I just waited and waited, hoping you'd find me."

"Hermione, I'm—"

"No," she interrupted, holding her fingers to his mouth again, "I don't blame you! Not for any of it! I knew you'd come eventually, and _you did_... it didn't matter how long it took... I would've waited for years and years... I _had _to... it's what kept me going..." she saw he was looking rather stricken, so she tried to change the subject. "But, listen: I need to tell you this while I still can... that Obliviate, it really messed me up. Becoming 'Nina' was necessary at the time, but it forced me to split in two... well, three if you count the part of me that's communicating with you now, but I don't really count since I'm always there, with the other two, I just can't get through... is this making any sense?"

Severus nodded hesitantly, and she continued, "Something happened before I was Obliviated... something that changed everything. I can't explain now— there's not enough time— but I'll try to help you find that memory if you use Legilimency on me again... I was able to help you before, you know— directing the right memories your way— and I think I can do it again... I'll try to help you as much as I can, but... I really need your help with this... _I need you to put me back together again_. I know it's a lot to ask, but I think you're the only one who can do it."

"I want to help you," he insisted, "but I don't know how..."

"You've already started doing it, you just don't know it yet," she assured him. "You have to bring the two sides back together. They're just two parts of a whole; remember that. I think the reason they're having such a hard time coming together is because of the paradox..."

Noticing his confusion, she elaborated, "You can't be a virgin and a whore at the same time... it's a psychological paradox. They can't handle it. They're both so insecure... that's my fault, really. The part of me that still thinks like a sixteen year-old— she was my innocence... I had to hide her away, to keep her safe... that's why she doesn't know anything. But she doesn't need to be kept safe anymore: you have to start telling her the truth, about _everything_."

When Severus didn't look like he was on board with the idea, she pressed, "I know. You want to protect her... she's so innocent, and you want to keep her that way, but _you can't_; you have to let her grow up... there's no 'Little Miss Granger' anymore, I'm afraid... you have to let her go."

Severus swallowed thickly, but nodded in assent. "What about Nina?" he asked quietly.

"Be nice to her," Hermione answered, causing him to look at her strangely. "_I'm__ not a Veela,_" she continued in a lightly teasing tone, causing Severus to frown, "...honestly... what gave you that idea?" When Severus just blushed slightly and averted his eyes, Hermione cupped his face in her hand and continued softly, "It's alright... Nina is... my sensual side, I suppose, but she's also very resourceful. I'm sorry if she gets a little carried away, but you have to understand: she's missing her other half... _she's incomplete_... she isn't a whole person yet. She's not trying to hypnotize you or anything... she just wants you to like her. You have to stop treating her like she's out to trap you, or else she'll never realize that she's capable of more than that... you're just reinforcing that idea when you push her away."

"What do I do, then?" he asked, at a loss, "If I don't push her away... you saw what happens." Severus placed his hand over Hermione's as she continued stroking his face in comfort.

"It's okay..." she said gently, "you don't have to be afraid of her... she's just me, you know? Just a side of me... I wish I had more answers, but I'm almost as clueless as you are about all of this... all I can tell you is, whatever you need to do, _I trust you..._"

Severus took her hand and pressed an urgent kiss into her palm, closing his eyes as he gripped her hand and held the back of it to the side of his face, sighing heavily as he leaned into it.

"I want you to stay with me," he told her in a harsh whisper, "_don't leave_..."

"I'm right here," she whispered back, "I'm _always right here..._"

Severus gently woke, blinking as he found himself still on the sofa, holding onto Nina tightly. He carefully lifted her face to find that she was still fast asleep, looking perfectly peaceful. Gathering her up more fully in his arms, he held her head against his shoulder and pressed his face into her hair, tears streaming down his cheeks as he whispered, "_I'll find you, Hermione... I'll bring you back..._"

...

..

.

* * *

><p><strong><em><span>AN__: _**_Happy now? ...Almost?_ ..._I thought some of you might have caught on to my scheme after Ch. 26... Congrats to those who guessed it! And to the rest, I'm very thrilled that I managed to surprise some of you!_

_Though the end is still far off, I hope some of you will trust where this story is headed enough to consider adding it to your favorites, now; I know that most of the stories I read have been found browsing people's faves, and I'd very much appreciate the exposure (the more people reading, the more reviews; the more reviews, the more I know people are interested — this keeps me going!). No pressure, though... _(;


	33. Chapter 33

Chapter 33

.

(Third Interlude)

.

Percival Weasley strode down the corridor with purpose, looking like a veritable person of importance as he carried a scroll toward the Prime Minister's office. To anyone who happened to look his way, he would've appeared eager to deliver his missive promptly. This was as it should be, since the missive was certainly one of urgent import to its intended recipient — Percy, however, was anything but eager to arrive at his destination.

Straightening his robes as he came to a stop outside the grand office door, Percy took a moment to compose himself, taking a steadying before he pushed through.

"Urgent message for the Minister, direct from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement," Percy announced to the secretary, standing tall, immensely relieved his voice hadn't cracked.

The icily attractive witch eyed him disdainfully as she rose from her seat, lips pursed as she turned away from him to knock politely on the door to the Minister's private office. She popped her head inside briefly, mumbling something unintelligible before withdrawing her head to turn toward the messenger with a placid expression. As she gestured for him to enter, Percy passed by the woman stiffly, avoiding her eyes as he braced himself for what was about to come. Though he hadn't had many occasions to speak directly with the Minister himself since his inauguration, those few occasions had left an indelible impression on the young Junior Assistant— an impression that still gave him nightmares. There was undoubtedly something very wrong about this new Minister of Magic; he gave Percy the creeps, and— as his own brothers would surely attest— _that_ was really saying something...

"Ah, Mister Weasley. Do come in."

Percy swallowed his fear and stepped into the lavish space, quietly closing the door behind him.

"What brings you here on Christmas Eve, young man?" the Minister inquired in that eerily tranquil tone of his that got under Percy's skin, his dark eyes vacant as they stared unblinking at the Junior Assistant, "Surely you have someplace else to be this evening?"

Percy quietly cleared his throat before replying, "I've come on urgent business, Your Excellency... I've received some information from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement that I was certain you'd want to hear as soon as possible."

The Minister simply nodded his head carefully in assent, smiling blandly as he waited for Percy to continue.

"It's come over from Australia, sir... from their Department of Foreign Affairs. It seems that an unauthorized witch or wizard has recently been detected Apparating within a regulated zone, and that this person has tripped their new Dark Mark alert system. Though their authorities weren't able to apprehend the person before they vanished, they have positively concluded that there was, for a short time, a Death Eater in their midst."

"Oh my..." Thicknesse replied, though his demeanor appeared wholly unchanged, "This certainly is a matter of great concern... I thank you, Mister Weasley, for bringing it to my attention."

Percy nodded graciously, placing the scroll on the Minister's desk before bowing with practiced veneration.

"That is all, Your Excellency. The report contains all the relevant details."

"Good, good... you may take your leave, Mister Weasley. This matter will be looked into promptly, I assure you."

"Very good, sir."

As Percy turned and moved to the exit with great relief, his departure was suddenly interrupted by Thicknesse's sibilant voice: "And... Mister Weasley?"

Percy turned around slowly, struggling to hide any trace of fear as he replied in a small voice, "Yes, sir?"

The cadaverous Minister gave him a cold smile as he remarked lightly, "Happy Christmas..."

...


	34. Chapter 34

Chapter 34

.

There were several reasons why Hermione felt quite disoriented upon waking, not the least of which because she found herself tightly wrapped in her professor's arms. His hold on her loosened as she stirred, pushing herself back to look at him in confusion. He looked as though he might've been crying.

"What's going on? What happened?" She asked in a small voice, looking at him with concern.

"You were unconscious for a little while," he replied in a gravelly voice, his eyes searching hers strangely. "What do you remember?"

"I... I was in the bathroom, I think..." Hermione answered, rubbing her head as the muddled fog began to clear. "But there was something... after that..."

She could see that Snape was hanging on her every word, but she struggled to recall whatever it was that seemed to linger at the edges of consciousness. "I'm sorry, sir, but it's too hazy. I just have this vague... feeling... but I'm not sure what it means."

"It's alright," he said quietly, though she detected a trace of disappointment in his voice that made her furrow her brows in response. "I take it Nina's been back?" she asked with uncensored bitterness.

Severus looked at her in that indecipherable way of his, and she suspected her question was more loaded than it was intended to be.

"There's something you should know," he started slowly, clearly reluctant to disclose whatever it was he had to say. Hermione felt a knot of anxiety in her stomach as all sorts of ideas fluttered through her mind. She carefully pulled herself out of his lap— still wondering what she was doing there in the first place— and settled beside him on the sofa, waiting for him to continue.

"I was mistaken before," he spoke with difficulty, looking down at his vacant lap, "...you were right all along, I just never imagined..."

"Never imagined what?" she softly prompted, when he broke off to fidget with the seam of his trousers.

"All this time... you were... that is, you still are... a virgin."

He'd uttered the last word so quietly that she'd barely heard him, and she almost asked him to repeat himself until her brain caught up with what he was saying. _Surely he couldn't mean...?_

"I'm still a virgin?" she nearly whispered, completely bewildered. She knew she should be feeling something... elation, perhaps... but for the moment she only felt immensely confused.

"But I thought that..."

"I thought so, too," Severus supplied, when she was unable to finish her thought out loud.

"...but how?"

"That's what I need to find out," he told her gently, "I managed to communicate with another part of you while you were unconscious — the part of you that remembers being taken by Dolohov, and what came afterward... — a part that's still there, but deeply buried. You told me that you've been helping me find the relevant memories during my Legilimency sessions, and that you'd try to help me find a particularly enlightening one if I entered your mind again. I'd like to do so as soon as you're comfortable, if you don't mind."

"Wait a minute... there's _another_ personality inside me?" Hermione asked meekly, clearly reeling from the thought.

"She's more... _the real you_... than a separate personality," Severus clarified, trying to be tactful. "Whereas Nina is the personification of your more _sensual_ side, and you, likewise, are the embodiment of your own innocence, the Hermione I communicated with is... how to put this... your rational side, I suppose."

"You're saying I'm not rational?" Hermione countered a little defensively, causing Severus to cringe at his own mistake.

"No, that's not what I meant. You're all connected in a way, and just because you're more innocent than Nina doesn't mean that she doesn't have any innocence, or vice versa. It just means that these aspects are expressed more fully in one personality over the other. I think you're all fusing together slowly— or trying to, but..."

Hermione watched the expression on his face with great curiosity as she struggled to put the pieces together, herself. At length, she began to understand.

"There's an obstacle."

Severus glanced up at her for a moment, nodding gravely. "Your fractured self called it a 'psychological paradox,' which I think is apt."

Hermione gave this some thought, before quietly musing aloud, "Two disparate personalities... a virgin, and a whore. Neither can accept the other, so one has to go."

"I'm not sure it works like that," Severus protested, but Hermione continued,

"It seems the most likely solution to me, sir. We have to merge somehow if I'm going to be a normal person again, and since you can't undo what happened to make Nina who she is, you'll just have to sacrifice the virgin," she said rather coldly, making Severus flinch.

"I won't do that," he quietly assured her.

"Why not?" she insisted, looking down at her hands and blushing, "It's what you're trying to tell me, isn't it? That this is the only way?"

"Of course not," he muttered. "I would not ask that of you."

"Then you're not as committed to this as I thought you were," she whispered, somewhat dejectedly. "It doesn't have to be me, you know," she whispered further, barely audible; "...it would probably be easier if it were Nina..."

_Easier for whom? _he wondered. Severus gulped, knowing he was supposed to start telling her the truth, but unconvinced that now was the best time to tell her about what had been happening (almost) with her counterpart.

"I think this discussion should be curtailed until I've seen whatever memory I'm meant to find," Severus gently deflected. "There may yet be more to this than we're aware of. Are you opposed to having Legilimency performed on you at this time?"

"No, go ahead," Hermione sighed, sounding somewhat defeated. She'd only just gotten her virginity back, and was already preparing to have it taken from her all over again — and by her former professor, of all people... she couldn't deny that she'd harbored a crush on him at one time or another, but she never imagined anything like this would happen between them. The entire scenario was hardly romantic.

Turning to face him fully, Hermione steeled himself as he took up his preparatory stance.

"Ready?" he asked, waiting for her nod of consent. "_Legilimens..._"

...

Severus lingered about the chamber of Hermione's mind, watching her distant memories as they slowly approached. Again he could feel the elusive presence that he'd noticed the last couple times, though he now understood that this was Hermione herself— _his _Hermione— attempting to reach him. Although it had only been a short time since he'd communicated with her in his half-dream, he already longed to be with her again, missing her rather fiercely. Unlike the others, this Hermione knew him as he was; understood him better; _trusted_ him implicitly; even sympathized with his ordeal. No one else had ever done as much. He briefly wondered if she'd feel the same way if she knew the whole story; knew what he kept from her... but he quickly suppressed his anxiety, knowing this was no time to dwell on such thoughts.

As he refocused his attention, a slowly-drifting memory coiled around him, caressing his consciousness almost lovingly before pulling him down into it. He didn't resist its pull, though it would've been futile to do so, anyhow; he knew that this was the memory Hermione wanted him to see.

...

Landing in an unfamiliar place, he took a moment before identifying his location as the inside of a ship; Hermione was across from him, as young and innocent as she'd been the day she was taken from him. She looked frightened, but he could tell she was doing her best to appear composed. There were three men in the cabin with her, one of whom was casting a familiar charm over her, reading the results with a look of greedy satisfaction.

"You're right, Alexei," the man grinned. "She's a virgin."

"Of course I'm right," answered the man beside him. "I can always tell."

"This is good," the third man muttered lazily from the corner, "she'll fetch a high profit, with that pretty face. I know exactly the right buyer. When he's done with her, I'll send her over to Nikolai's people. They'll put her to good use."

"What should we do with her in the meantime?" asked the first man.

The third man stared at her absently for a moment before replying, "Perform the contraceptive procedure, and have Ingrid do something about that hair. Don't Obliviate yet— this buyer likes them to know what's happening. Then keep her away from the others; we don't want them soiling the goods. This one's too valuable to go to waste."

"Yes sir," the first man replied, reaching down and pulling Hermione up by the arm.

"_Gently_, Grigor..." the third man admonished, smiling cruelly as he continued, "...let's not bruise our little princess, hmm?"

Severus watched with immense fury as the scene dissolved, realizing that another was linked to it. Swallowing down his pointless frustration, he stewed uselessly as another difficult memory played out before him. Hermione was alone in an extravagantly decorated room with a much older man, who looked startlingly normal— genial, even— at first glance. He could tell by the style of the room and the man's dressing robe that this was a rather wealthy, Pureblooded wizard. Hermione was completely naked on the edge of an enormous bed, wide-eyed and on the verge of tears as the man approached her.

"Konstantin certainly wasn't exaggerating about you, my dear," the man muttered, eyeing every inch of her with obvious pleasure before reaching inside his robe to stroke himself.

"We're going to have a lot of fun, you and I..." he continued, his voice hitching as his hand continued working himself under the ruby red fabric, "...but unfortunately, I will have to make this rather more _quick_ than I'm accustomed to... no rest for the wicked, I'm afraid..." the man gasped, his eyes flashing energetically before he slowly peeled the dressing gown off his narrow shoulders. "Just lie down on your back like a good little Mudblood, and let me show you your rightful place in this world..."

Something in Hermione's eyes changed as she listened to the man's directions, and Severus watched as her breathing went from the shallow breaths of terror to the deeper draws of rising anger. The man looked momentarily taken aback at her expression, smirking evilly before asking, "What's this? Konstantin never told me you were _uppity_... my, my... it's a shame I don't have more time... how I'd love to _break_ that fiery spirit of yours; I do have such _creative_ ways of training Mudbloods to behave properly... but, alas... tonight I'll just have to _fuck_ you to submission. Now: _On. Your. __**Back**__._"

When Hermione just stared back at the man defiantly, he drew his wand and shot a spell at her that sent her slamming backwards onto the mattress, pinning her by her arms and shoulders. She struggled in vain as the man mounted her, laughing viciously.

"Not so uppity now, are you little one?" He teased, stroking his cock as he prepared to fuck her.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione closed her eyes and seemed to concentrate hard, ignoring the taunts.

"What, are you _praying_?" The man scoffed, "Pray all you like, little fool. The gods won't intervene for dirt like you."

As the man laughed at her efforts, Severus sensed a change in the air around them; a primal thrum, as if faint drum beats were pulsing through his very blood. It was not unlike what he'd experienced before with Nina, only this time he was not too distracted to pay proper attention to it, and the sheer power was undeniable. Something was happening. The man, however, seemed completely oblivious to it, laughing darkly as he stroked himself over Hermione's prone form.

Suddenly Hermione stilled as her eyes shot open, fixing the man with a wildly disconcerting stare. The thrum in the air seemed to be sucked out all at once, and Severus watched in amazement as the man's smirk fell, glancing down to find that his cock had gone limp in his hand. With a disturbed frown, the man started stroking himself more vigorously, cursing when he couldn't get his erection to return. He looked to Hermione with a half-furious, half-humiliated expression, struggling vainly to pump his cock back into form.

"What the hell is this?" The man muttered, struggling further before giving up with a hiss.

"You were a waste of my time, Mudblood," the man spat dangerously; "if anyone finds out about this, you'll be _dead_. Do you understand?"

Hermione didn't answer, but lay on the bed with a blank expression as he canceled the restraints, angrily pulling his robe back on before storming out of the room.

The scene began to dissolve, and when it was clear that there were no more memories following this one, Severus gently pulled out of Hermione's mind.

...

Severus sat still with closed eyes for a moment as he willed his anger to dissipate. When he opened them he sighed heavily with relief, knowing that the girl across from him was safe. Getting better at recognizing their subtle differences, Severus could tell that he was now facing Nina as he focused on the familiar surroundings. He was not surprised; after a memory like that, Hermione surely wouldn't have been able to cope. This was why she had Nina to take over for her. While such an unconscious symbiosis between the two sides undoubtedly sustained her equilibrium, it also supported her pathology. He wondered what it would be like for her when she had to face these traumatic memories on her own... _would she hate him for taking away her sense of security, however unsustainable it may be?_

As he collected his thoughts, Nina was watching him from the corner of her eye, reaching over to pick up his copy of _Olde & Forgotten Bewitchments and Charmes_, idly flipping through it as she waited for him to speak first. She knew what he'd just seen, though she hadn't been aware of that particular memory until now. For the moment, keeping silent on the matter seemed to her the best course of action; if she admitted to having witnessed it, she'd just as soon have to admit that everything he'd been saying about her was true, and that her existence as she knew it was a lie. To admit as much would be to let Hermione win, and she couldn't let that happen just yet. At the same time, she felt a little guilty for reasons that didn't make perfect sense to her.

Severus knew that what he'd just seen was significant: Hermione had obviously invoked some kind of primal, wandless magic that first time, though without knowing her explicit intentions, it would be difficult to identify just what that magic had been. It was protective, certainly, but that hardly narrowed it down for him... _Had it been spontaneous, or did she know what she was doing? ...Hadn't Hermione told him that she didn't know what had happened? Was she directly controlling the man's sexual responses, or was that a side effect of whatever she'd unleashed? Was it fueled by her anger? Fear? ...something else? ..._He needed to speak with Hermione again.

At length, Severus finally spoke. "I'd like to try something with you."

Nina looked up with some surprise, setting the open book on the coffee table as she turned toward Severus expectantly.

"I wonder if it would be possible to... call Hermione back... to speak with her, now."

Nina frowned at him, replying, "I don't get it; what are you asking me to do?"

"I just want you to try and focus; to allow Hermione to come through... don't fight her, but _help _her..."

"Why would I want to do that?"

"Because I'm _asking_ you to; because it's important," Severus replied with as much patience as he could muster.

Nina thought about it for a moment, realizing that bringing Hermione back would get her off the hook, so to speak... this way, she wouldn't have to answer any questions he might put to her otherwise. On the other hand, doing so might set a precedent that she wasn't too keen on...

"If I do this, how do I know you won't just try calling Hermione back _all the time? _How do I know you won't use this as a way of getting rid of me?"

Severus sighed, giving her a flat expression before answering, "Contrary to what you believe, I don't want to 'get rid of you,' Nina. I want to _help_ you, as far as I'm able to. You're part of Hermione, whether you like it or not; I don't believe that fixing her means destroying you. It just means that both sides will have to compromise."

"And then what?" Nina asked quietly, "Who will be left standing if we do 'compromise'?"

"I don't know," Severus sighed, "but I'm sure that you'll have your place in the final picture. You'll just have to trust me."

Nina looked back at him speculatively, wondering how much he believed in what he was saying. She thought it was just as likely that he was attempting to reassure himself, as well as her.

"It probably won't even work, 'calling' Hermione," Nina murmured.

"We won't know that unless we try," Severus insisted. "Just, please, do _try._"

"Fine," Nina said, closing her eyes, "I'm trying..."

Severus watched her for a moment, wondering if she was really cooperating.

"I want you to relax... focus on the sound of my voice..." Severus started, attempting to soothe her into a state of complacency.

"Focus... imagine yourself drifting away, into a place of peace and tranquility... a place where you are safe... a place where you can rest for a little while... when I count to three, you will open your eyes again, and Hermione will be back... there is nothing stopping her... nothing for her to be afraid of... just allow her to come through... are you ready?... one... two... three."

As she blinked her eyes open blearily, focusing on him with a look of confusion and concern that was unmistakably Hermione, Severus was a little surprised to find that it had worked. _That was easier than I thought it would be..._

"What just happened?" she asked.

"I called you back," Severus replied, looking a bit surprised, "Nina allowed you to come through..."

"Why?" Hermione asked, furrowing her brows.

"I needed to speak with you."

"No... I meant, why would she cooperate like that? I thought she was... I don't know, kind of belligerent..."

Severus shrugged, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly as he suppressed a smirk.

"I'm just as astonished as you, I'm sure," he replied. "But I need to ask you something; it's rather important." Seeing that he had her full attention, he continued, "What do you know about primal magic?"

Hermione looked confused, replying, "Not very much... it hasn't been covered in any detail in the Hogwarts curriculum, but surely you already knew that, and I haven't read any extracurricular works on the topic..."

Severus frowned, having expected a different answer. "You don't know anything about primal, non-verbal, wandless incantations?"

"Do you mean spontaneous magic, like the kind Wizarding children will sometimes display as they're developing? I know a little bit about that, but only because I was looking into Harry's history as a Parselmouth..."

"No, that's not what I meant," Severus murmured, with slight exasperation. "I thought you might have learned something... some kind of defensive, primal magic."

"I'm sorry, sir, but I'm sure I don't know what you mean..." Hermione replied, glancing down at the open book on the coffee table. "Why do you ask?"

Sighing, Severus explained, "I managed to view that memory I told you about, and in it I watched you perform a kind of magic that I wasn't familiar with. It was in self defense, and it had a... _sexual_ component, that was rather mystifying. I'm certain that it was primal in nature, and I'm almost certain that it happened spontaneously, given what you've just confirmed about your lack of familiarity with the subject... but without knowing your explicit intentions at the time, I can hardly narrow it down to—"

"—a chastity spell..." Hermione interrupted.

Severus looked up at her in confusion, seeing that she'd pulled the book into her lap and was reading the page it had been opened to.

"What did you say?" he asked quietly. _That could be it..._

"It sounds like you're describing an ancient chastity spell, sir... it's written right here in your book..."

"How did you find it?" Severus asked in astonishment, taking the book from her and scanning the page rapidly.

"It was left open to that page, sir," Hermione replied, surprised he hadn't realized it. "Wasn't that where you left off reading it?"

"No, it wasn't," Severus muttered, pausing in his reading as something occurred to him. "Nina..." looking at Hermione in surprise, he continued, "You said you'd try to help me... it must have been you! You were working through Nina, unconsciously!"

"Me, sir?" Hermione asked skeptically.

"The _other_ you!" Severus insisted, "Hermione did this! She was trying to help..."

Hermione felt strange hearing him use her given name in reference to some mysterious third personality of hers, but understood his meaning plain enough. "I see..." she replied, "...then that must be the answer you were looking for, after all... it was a chastity spell..."

Reading aloud from the book, Severus elaborated, "_This most ancient form of magic was invoked in times of great upheaval, when young witches were captured by their country's foes. When separated from their beloved, young witches of pure heart would invoke this ancient protection so that only he whom their hearts had chosen would be able to release the spell. By invoking their beloved's name in a time of turmoil, their powers would concentrate on maintaining their virtue to the extent that no other man would be able to take from them that which they had so profoundly promised to another. Thereafter the spell would hold, maintained by the primal energies until at last the witch's beloved came to claim her; once he is recognized as her heart's keeper, the spell would be released upon the consummation of their reunion. Should the beloved go unrecognized, as in cases where such men were killed before reuniting with their promised ones, the witch would live out the rest of her days as a spinster. For more on this topic, see: 'The Spinster's Curse,' page 447."_

Severus' voice had faded off near the end of the passage, though Hermione's attentive ears had still heard every word. Having gone quite pale, he lowered the book to glance at Hermione, unsurprised to see her blushing profusely. He swallowed nervously before asking, in a small voice, "...I don't suppose there's any chance you promised yourself to Mr Weasley?"

...

_**A/N**: More will follow, soon; the next couple of chapters are almost finished..._


	35. Chapter 35

Chapter 35

.

Snape and Hermione sat at opposite ends of the sofa in awkward silence, each contemplating the implications of their latest discovery. Somehow, Hermione had activated an ancient chastity spell during the early stages of her capture, though she had no recollection of the event; a spell which required the invocation of a name — and not just any name, but that of the man whom the caster's heart has chosen, irrevocably.

Severus had only been half-serious when he'd asked Hermione whether Ronald Weasley could have been the one she'd thought of during her crisis — he knew this was a desperate attempt at finding a way out of this mess. But now, as the full impact of the possibility sunk in, he wondered how she could possibly have invoked his own name. This was no ordinary magic; for her to summon it at all, her intentions would have needed to be so pure, so _true_, that there could be no room to doubt whether she'd meant it. _What on Earth would have driven her to think of him like that? What could he possibly have done to encourage such feelings? Didn't she realize that he'd gotten her into that mess; that he had been responsible for the nightmare her life was about to become?_

She must have done... After all, this was Hermione Granger — she hadn't been hailed as the Brightest Witch of Her Generation for nothing... Severus couldn't believe that her able mind would have twisted the details so outrageously that she would have somehow envisioned him as a kind of romantic hero worthy of the deepest devotion, no matter how complicated the circumstances. After all: hardly a full day before that incident, he'd still been her maligned Potions master; twenty years her senior, no less; and a suspected Death Eater, to boot... She, meanwhile, had been scarcely more than a child, thrown into a world of darkness before she was ready, cut off from her friends and left with no choice but to trust in the only man in a position to offer her what little help was available to her... _Surely these weren't the makings of a love match?_

He wasn't so blind as to be unaware of his own feelings for the girl, although he wouldn't go so far as to say he'd _fallen in love_ with her... he'd become obsessed with her, no doubt. But this was nothing new for a man like him. It had happened before, when a wildly intelligent, pretty Griffindor girl had shown him the time of day and recognized him as a fellow human being; there was no reason why it shouldn't happen again, especially under such dire, rapidly-escalating circumstances. To _lose_ such a girl all over again as a result of his own carelessness had been the catalyst of yet another dangerous personal mission to redress his mistakes, and during all that time he had come to think of the girl in rather possessive terms. He knew this was wrong— that he ought to have turned her over to those truly responsible for her welfare the moment he found her— but he had always been a selfish man in some respects, this one especially. He could not— _would _not— give her up just yet; not when there was still a way to set things right. Otherwise he would never be at peace.

Besides: this was neither here nor there. His own feelings were immaterial, since she couldn't possibly have known how he had started to feel about her at the time, and certainly couldn't have anticipated how he would feel about her after. No— she would had to have fallen for him all on her own, without any reasonable sign of encouragement from him. The idea was preposterous. The schoolgirl crush he'd witnessed in her memory stream could hardly have been powerful enough to activate the emotional levels required by the chastity spell, and it was patently absurd to think that what had subsequently happened between them (in such a small amount of time!) had impacted her so profoundly. It couldn't have been enough. _And yet, hadn't it been enough for him?_

Though the thought made him slightly queasy to consider, he was becoming more and more convinced that she had to have been thinking of Ronald Weasley when the spell was cast. Because if she wasn't, he was in big trouble.

Meanwhile, Hermione's thoughts were wandering down a similar path as her professor's. _Am I really in love with Ron? _...She didn't _feel_ in love with him, exactly, though she had been considering a potential romantic future with him for a longer time than she'd ever admit to. Had she been jealous of Lavender? Absolutely. The duration of that relationship had been one of the most difficult times in her life, and her elation when it had ended had felt spectacular. But was it the same as being in love? She couldn't say for sure; she had no legitimate experience with which to compare it. Part of her wanted to think it was possible, but another, less familiar, less reliable part of her quietly insisted that she was missing the mark.

Then there was another possibility— one which she was resolutely trying not to even consider, though it persistently invaded her wayward cogitations: _what if I'm in love with Professor Snape? _Oh, but this was a wild, dangerous notion. _No way_, she'd insist, _he may be interesting, granted, but he's far too old, far too cruel, far too... him... to ever dream of loving! _She wondered if she was going barmy by even pausing to consider it. Of course, it hadn't been _her_, necessarily, who had activated the chastity spell in the first place; _who knows_ what was going through _that_ Hermione's head at the time... Maybe, just maybe, she had been so far gone with desperation that she had fancied herself in love with him at the time... _but then, would the spell really have recognized him as her one true love if she hadn't really meant it? _

She wished she knew precisely what had happened between them before she'd been taken by her captors. The summary he'd provided before had been terse and to the point, but hardly hinted at any kind of underlying, emotional nuances... _Could she have fallen in love with him, then? What would it have taken to make her feel that way about him? Could it have really happened so easily; so quickly? _Of course, she _had _harbored that little crush on him beforehand, especially after she'd found out that he was a member of the Order, and had started considering him in a different light... She supposed that might have been the impetus: that— under just the right conditions, and given just the right provocation— her crush might have developed quickly into something much more pervasive... but it still didn't seem that plausible.

She supposed there was only one way to find out... The book had said something about a 'consummation' that would only work when the 'beloved' was reunited with the caster... But before she even considered how to go about 'consummating' anything, she needed more information. She wasn't going to jump into anything without ample justification, especially if there was a good chance it would all be for naught. The humiliation would be unbearable — she'd never be able to take another potions class for as long as she lived.

Unable to suppress another blush, Hermione asked, "Can I see that book again, sir?"

Severus' shoulders jumped slightly when she addressed him after the lengthy silence, but he was quick to recover, feigning nonchalance as he handed over the heavy tome. He tried not to appear too nervous as he wondered what conclusions she was working out, surreptitiously glancing at her as she leaned over the text.

"What do you suppose is meant when it says, '_once he is recognized as her heart's keeper'_?" she asked, "How would he be recognized — by her, or by the spell itself?"

Severus considered the question for a moment before replying, "By both, I imagine."

Hermione furrowed her brows before arguing, "You don't think it would work if she didn't fully recognize him, herself? Even if he's the one?"

As he considered her point, Severus paled as he recalled his foiled attempt to penetrate Nina at the grotto. His... _accident_ had been unprecedented. At the time, he'd shrugged it off (as much as such a thing can be 'shrugged off') as the result of overstimulation brought on by too much alcohol and pent-up sexual tension. Later, when he'd been given cause to reflect on the mysterious atmosphere preceding the mishap, he'd considered the possibility that Nina herself had been influencing his reactions through some kind of unrealized, Veela-like power. He now knew that what he had felt had actually been an aspect of the chastity spell at work, only he wasn't completely certain what it meant. Most likely, the the protective aspect of the spell had been activated, interrupting further sexual activity since Nina did not recognize Severus as her 'beloved,' but rather had thought of him simply as someone she wanted to fuck. If this were true, then it opened two possibilities: either Severus _was_ Hermione's 'beloved,' but Nina— as a fractured personality— wasn't able to properly identify him as such, or Severus was not, and the spell had rejected him entirely as the wrong person. If the former were true, then there was a chance the spell would be undone if he were to engage in intercourse with Hermione. If the latter were true, then it was likely that Mr Weasley's assistance would be required to break the spell. Either way, he was quite fucked.

"Sir?" Hermione prompted, when he still hadn't answered her question. "Did you hear what I said?"

"Miss— _Hermione_," he corrected (deciding it was useless to keep up the formalities under such circumstances), "...there's something else you should know."

Hermione looked to him in confusion, wondering why he suddenly felt the need to use her given name again.

Swallowing uneasily, Severus stiffened as he prepared to disclose his dirty secret. He knew she might despise him for it, but he didn't see any way around it. If he continued to keep this from her, there was little chance of making any progress.

"You've asked me before what Nina is like when I'm alone with her... and... I haven't been completely honest with you. Though my primary concern was your own peace of mind, I did have my own reasons for wanting to keep quiet on this matter. Doubtless, we'll _both_ be very uncomfortable with what I'm about to tell you, but at this point it seems worse not to say anything about it at all..."

Hermione blinked at him as he seemed to struggle forming his next words, determinedly avoiding eye contact. Despite the heat, she felt an acute chill pass through her as her stomach twisted in anticipation.

"Nina and I... we have been... _intimate_," he said with great difficulty, his mouth haltingly testing out the word before forming it audibly, "though, for my part, these relations have been mostly accidental... I have attempted to keep an appropriate distance, but she has been uncommonly... _persistent._ I can't say that I've been wholly blameless, but I _have_ exerted great effort at maintaining self-control, and would not have crossed any boundaries had I not been deviously manipulated into doing so. I've resisted her charms with as much restraint as any warm-blooded man is capable of, and perhaps in less... _compromised_ circumstances, I might have been able to do more..."

Sighing for a moment as he ran a hand through his hair, Severus slumped forward, leaning against his knees and hanging his head as he continued, much quieter, "Truthfully, I've been nearly at my wit's end since before I even arrived at this place. I was practically a mad man when I found you, lacking sleep and proper meals and any of the regularity I had relied on for so long. I can't function properly without routine. ...I'm not trying to make excuses for myself, Hermione... I'm only trying to tell you that I'm not the same man now as you once knew. More has happened than you're aware of; more than I'm free to discuss with you. You have every right to be disappointed in me. I'm sorry," he nearly whispered, "...for everything."

Hermione glanced sideways at the dark man beside her, trying to sort through her own emotions. Shock and self-righteous anger came first, but the latter was difficult to maintain in the face of such obvious remorse. Part of her wanted to feel sorry for him, but this compulsion was in conflict with the part that wanted to scream _'I knew it!' _and rain down upon him with objections. She knew it was Nina she was really upset with, but since she wasn't able to confront her, he was the next best thing for her to release her indignation. _How could she yell at him, though, when he looked so miserable already? _She definitely wanted to know what he meant when he said he'd been 'intimate' with Nina, but she felt strangely uncomfortable asking, not only because the subject matter was quite scandalous, but also because she had the odd, misplaced sense that she was intruding on private business.

Fidgeting nervously as she cleared her throat, Hermione quietly murmured, suppressing her frustration as much as she could, "Perhaps you should tell me how far you and Nina have gone... so that I'll know whether it has any bearing on the spell."

He knew she'd want to know about that, but it still didn't make it any easier to be confronted with the question. With his hair still shadowing his face, he rasped, "Nearly all the way. It was interrupted. Probably by the spell."

Breathing in sharply through her nose at this revelation, Hermione attempted to reign in her reaction before questioning stiffly, "_Probably?_ Is there considerable room for doubt?"

"I'm almost certain the spell caused the interruption," Severus muttered shamefully.

"I see," Hermione replied. She was quiet for a time before continuing, "And was there only the one occasion? Or did you try again?"

"I never 'tried' anything," Severus muttered defensively, biting back any further retort.

"Well, whoever started it... was it just the once?" She pressed.

Severus was quiet for a long beat before answering, almost inaudibly, "No."

Huffing indignantly as she tried to maintain her composure, Hermione asked, "Only twice, then?" She was marginally relieved to see him nod in confirmation. "And was it the same the second time?"

She watched Severus pick at the seam of his trousers before answering lowly, "I never got that far... though I now believe that it would have been the same."

"How come?"

"...Because I felt a similar kind of feeling in the air; I assume it was the spell's magic at work."

Considering this for a moment, Hermione then asked, "What stopped you then, if not the spell?"

Severus really didn't want to answer that question. Groaning slightly as he rubbed at his forehead, he took a deep breath before stiltedly replying, "That was when I discovered that you were still a virgin. Please don't ask me to be more specific; suffice it to say that I found out. I performed a diagnostic charm to confirm it. That was the end of that."

They both lapsed into another lengthy silence as Hermione considered this new information. Though she was definitely nursing some badly hurt feelings, she wasn't angry enough to lash out over it. She mostly felt confused, as usual. All this time her Potions professor had been fooling around with her behind her back. It was a very disconcerting notion. _Did this mean he thought about her in __**that**__ way? Or did he only see Nina like that? They were the same person, after all — at least in the most fundamental aspect... How could he think that way about one, but not the other? Was that even possible? Or had it all been in response to some seductive talent of Nina's that Hermione herself simply didn't possess? ...Could she elicit such a response from him if she tried? ...did she even want to?_

And then there were the magical implications: _what did this mean in terms of the chastity spell? Did the interruption prove that he wasn't 'the one,' or was it just because Nina wasn't able to recognize him as such? _At least now she was somewhat closer to understanding the options, though it did still leave a pretty large gap for misinterpretation.

Hermione's silence was almost more unnerving than her questioning, and Severus was fidgeting even more noticeably now. Momentarily distracted from her thoughts, Hermione watched with furrowed brows as he proceeded to pick apart the tattered edge of the sofa cushion at the space between his legs, twining the fibers around his forefinger and tearing them out like blades of grass. He had really begun to make a mess of it before she spoke up.

"Are you going to pull out the stuffing next, or are you ready to have a conversation with me?"

Suppressing his irritation at her tone of address, Severus sat back uncomfortably and pulled his hands into his lap, rubbing his thumb against a callus. When he didn't seem inclined to say anything, Hermione decided to initiate.

"Are you attracted to me?"

Severus' eyes widened, holding his breath at the unexpected query. Though Hermione had meant for her question to sound ambivalent, she hadn't quite managed it. She bit the inside of her lip, stiffening in anticipation of his reply. At length, he answered.

"What is the purpose of asking me this."

"Please don't answer my question with another," she huffed; "just do me the courtesy of giving a straightforward reply, if such a thing is even possible with you. Surely this isn't too much to ask, all things considered."

Severus scowled at her forwardness, but silently admitted that it was probably deserved. With a shallow sigh, he formulated a response.

"I would not have been taken in by Nina's charms if there had not been an existing attraction."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at his roundabout reply, but decided it was acceptable enough.

"So this 'existing attraction' is not limited to just Nina, then?" She asked quietly.

Working his jaw anxiously, Severus forced out an answer: "It wouldn't be, obviously."

Though a little impatient with his condescension, Hermione could not ignore the little flutter of excitement at this confession. _Professor Snape just admitted he was attracted to her!_

"How long have you felt this way?" She nearly whispered.

"I'm not going to answer that." He replied flatly. She was really pushing her luck.

'_Hmm,' _she thought, _'...that must mean it's more than just a recent thing...'_

After falling into another heavy silence, Severus finally spoke up.

"Perhaps you wouldn't mind answering one of my questions, now..."

Hermione looked up at him, waiting for him to continue. Clearing his throat, he murmured, "Are you in love with Mr Weasley?"

Biting her lip as she frowned, Hermione looked away and tried not to blush. "How did you even know about him," she mumbled.

Severus tried not to sound smug as he replied, "There is little that your professors don't see, and, much to my dismay, gossip about endlessly. I've overheard many a conversation pertaining to the sordid love lives of the three of you, and recall an inordinate amount of speculation revolving around an unrequited romance between you and the youngest Weasley boy. Your own Head of House seemed particularly convinced that it was only a matter of time before we'd be dragging the two of you out of the rose bushes."

Mortified at the image, Hermione groaned as she buried her hot face in her hands. Severus was unsure how to interpret her reaction.

"Should I take this to mean that your secret has been found out?" He asked lowly.

"Oh, God," Hermione mumbled into her palms, "No... I mean, maybe... sort of... this really is quite embarrassing."

Though he felt that her present embarrassment couldn't hold a candle to what he'd been forced to admit earlier, Severus decided not to say anything about it. He merely snorted softly, earning him a surreptitious glare.

"I'm sure you don't want to hear me outline all of my complicated feelings for Ron, sir," Hermione retorted. "I do... _like _him, and have for awhile. I'm not sure I'd call it love, though. Let's please just leave it at that."

"With pleasure," Severus replied dryly. He hadn't asked for more than a simple 'yes' or 'no,' in the first place.

"I hate to say it," Severus said with a heavy sigh as he crossed his arms, "but we've hardly cleared anything up regarding the damned spell, despite all the titillating discourse."

Unconsciously mirroring him by crossing her own arms, Hermione sat back dejectedly. "No we haven't, not really."

They lapsed into another silence as they both considered possible solutions, neither daring to voice them aloud. Eventually, Hermione opted to change the subject.

"In the interest of full disclosure... as long as we're getting everything out in the open... is there anything else you think I should know about?"

Severus swallowed, knowing there was still quite a lot she didn't know about, but unsure whether any of it was germane to the current situation. There were some things she would find out eventually, but not before the appropriate time. He wondered whether one particular revelation would be appropriate to mention now, uncertain whether she could handle it yet. He'd been thinking about it a lot lately, ever since finding out that she was still a virgin after all.

"Do you have any specific questions?" he ventured, deciding to play it safe.

Thinking for a moment, Hermione replied cautiously, "Well... you still haven't told me who's looking for you... I do feel like I've been left in the dark about what's been going on in the outside world, about the war effort and everything."

Sighing heavily, Severus decided now was probably a good a time as any to tell her at least this much, since she'd brought it up. He'd still have to be careful not to say too much.

"Nobody's looking for me, as such," he started carefully, hunching over again to lean on his elbows.

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked in confusion, "Why would you be hiding if no one was looking for you?"

"Because," Severus answered in a low voice, sounding quite solemn, "...they're all looking _for you._"

...

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN:**_ _this one was all talk and internal monologue, but it was crucial in order to move things along (I hope you were paying attention!); I assure you, there is much more action on the way_ (;


	36. Chapter 36

Chapter 36

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How It Happened, Part III

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Sybill Trelawney nearly stumbled off her hideously tasseled pouffe as she shook herself from her trance, blinking rapidly as she struggled to comprehend what she'd just experienced.

'_A quill!' _she thought, _'I must have a quill!'_

Summoning the needed tool, she hastily began scribbling the words on a nearby piece of parchment, cramming them in among the already crowded sheet of post-meditation notes, trying to recall them while they were still fresh in her mind. Unlike the other scribblings on the paper, this little composition _rhymed_, and actually seemed to make some sense.

As she hurriedly jotted down the final word, Sybill drew back to inspect her notes, her mouth working animatedly as she muttered the words back to herself under her breath. With a gasp of realization, she pressed the parchment to her chest, hardly able to breathe for all her excitement.

After taking an ineffectual calming breath, she spoke aloud into the empty, strongly-incensed room, her voice heavily portentous, "..._A new __**prophecy!**__..._"

It was still early in the morning, but she knew that her friend Esme, a fellow Seer, would want to hear about this right away, to compare visions. Sometimes their visionary experiences would overlap— even if only in very abstract terms that only the pair of them could understand— and this would certainly be a significant event, either way; she had never received anything that _rhymed_...

Quickly scribbling a note describing her experience to her friend, Sybill copied the prophecy, folded the paper and sealed it messily with melted wax before reaching for another sheet of stationary. There was someone else who she thought might take special interest in her revelation: Xenophilius Lovegood at _The Quibbler_ had always humored her by paying considerate attention to her sometimes incoherent, 'prophetic' ramblings, corresponding with her via owl by offering his own, usually bizarre opinions on how her visions might correspond to the world at large. Sometimes he was even good enough to include her insights in his publications, albeit under largely ignored columns that touched on some of the wilder, less-coherent conspiracy theories of the day. This time, however, she was quite certain her vision would earn considerable attention by the eccentric editor— possibly even front-page notoriety!

After dispatching her hasty letters by owl, it suddenly occurred to the Divination Professor that the Headmaster himself would surely be interested in this particular prophecy— after all, it almost certainly concerned his most notorious student, and the war effort itself!

Hoping that Dumbledore might be back in his office (it was a well-kept secret among the staff that at certain days of the week, he had been returning in the early mornings to hold meetings with the Heads of Houses as they continued to undermine Dolores Umbridge's authority — the toad still couldn't access the heavily-warded office, and had remained ignorant of these goings-on), Sybill tugged her best shawl over her shoulders, snatched up her messy note sheet and took off down the tower steps, nearly tripping over her own feet as she rushed toward the Headmaster's office. As she encountered a few of her colleagues in the halls, she waved her notes in the air as she excitedly exclaimed, "_A new prophecy! There's a new prophecy! It has been foreseen!_", completely ignoring their disgruntled attempts to shush her as she clamored through the quiet passages.

The entrance to the Headmaster's office was laden with wards when she arrived, and she insistently railed against them, demanding entry to the indifferent gargoyle as she sputtered the password in vain. At length the stairway was opened to her, and she rushed upwards, bursting into the office unceremoniously before she realized she was interrupting what appeared to be a very solemn meeting. Undaunted, —(for surely this was more important)— she pressed through the disapproving throng, shrugging off McGonagall's attempt to waylay her as she made her way toward the Headmaster.

"Sybill, what is the meaning of this?" he asked with as much patience as he could under the circumstances, "As you can see, I am quite occupied at the moment..."

"A new prophecy!" the disheveled Divination Professor gasped breathlessly, thrusting her notes toward him, "_I have seen it!_"

Albus regarded her skeptically over the frames of his glasses as he took the proffered sheet, sighing impatiently as he glanced over it. "Sybill, I'm afraid I have no time for this right now. I have much more urgent matters to attend to."

"Read it!" she insisted desperately, "Believe me, Headmaster! This is of tremendous import!"

Taking a deep breath as he looked over the largely illegible notations again, he muttered, "'Cat's in the cradle'? 'Owl roads lead to hymn'? Sybill, I can't make sense of any of this."

"No, not that part," Sybill huffed a little irritably, pointing at a portion of text in a lower corner, "Here! Read this!"

"Dumbledore, surely this can wait..." Kingsley Shacklebolt's smooth voice quietly interrupted, as he glanced between the Headmaster and the Seer with discomfort.

Albus was on the verge of agreeing when something about the sloppily scribbled text caught his eye. Quietly murmuring aloud as he read over the written words, he began, "_When three cubs of Gryffindor..._"

As he spoke, Sybill nodded and spoke along with him, until he cut off and read silently, allowing her voice to take over as she recited the rhyme.

.o.

_When three cubs of Gryffindor—_

_The Ace, the Knave, the Virgin Whore—_

_Are met upon the path once more,_

_Then shall the tide of endless war_

_Begin to turn again, in favor_

_Of a young and worthy savior._

.o.

Everyone in the room had heard the recitation, and were now glancing around in confusion at one another, some taking on expressions of anxious comprehension.

"Sybill, when did you receive this message?" Dumbledore asked solemnly, lowering the sheet to glance up at the Seer, who was trembling in nervous excitement.

"Just moments ago — earlier this morning," Sybill answered, wringing her hands as she anxiously awaited the Headmaster's assessment.

Before he could reply, there was a bright flash of green from the fireplace as another Order member came through the access-limited floo network. A moment later, Severus Snape was bearing down on the Headmaster with a thunderous expression, a dark flurry of black Death Eater robes that had Sybill clutching her chest in shock. McGonagall caught the Seer as she nearly fainted, reeling back from the imposing figure as he ignored everyone else in the room, coming to a halt in front of Albus and rasping furiously, "_They've taken her! Your aurors failed, Albus! I've lost her!"_

"Severus, calm down," Dumbledore insisted, placing a pacifying hand on the Potion Master's shoulder, only to have it promptly shrugged off.

"_Did you hear me?_" Snape insisted, "She's gone! Granger is gone, with _them!_"

"I did hear you, Severus, and this is most distressing news, but we need to approach this rationally. Calm yourself!" Albus ordered, as Snape looked as though he were about to spit fire, "There's nothing to be done until we've taken the time to think this through."

"Time? _Time?!_" The irate man protested, "There is no time! They have her! Who knows what they're doing to her at this very moment; what they'll _do to her yet_ if we don't stop them!"

"But how, dear boy?" Dumbledore tried to reason, risking incensing the man further by using such an endearment in mixed company, "We knew that this was a possibility, and now that it has come to pass, we know that our options at this point are severely limited," he continued sadly. "Miss Granger may be lost to us at present, but I now have good reason to believe that she may not be lost forever..."

"What are you talking about?" Severus spat irritably, "What kind of placating nonsense is this?"

"Not nonsense, Severus," Dumbledore confided lowly; "Sybill here has just brought us what I well believe to be a genuine prophecy — one that seems to pertain to the Granger girl..."

Darting suspicious eyes at the terrified Seer, who grasped frantically for Minerva as he turned his dark eyes upon her, Severus sneered contemptuously before looking toward Albus again in confusion.

"Read this," Albus instructed softly, pointing to a specific portion of a messy sheet of parchment as he handed it over.

Severus' eyes carefully read the indicated lines, furrowing his brows as he considered the unlikely rhyme. _The Virgin Whore_... he thought to himself, _Oh, gods... surely that meant..._

Looking up at the Headmaster again with dawning comprehension, Albus nodded solemnly.

"What does it mean, Albus?" Minerva ventured to ask, patiently stroking Sybill's arm as the Seer continued to shy away from the nearby Death Eater.

"I believe it means we shall see Miss Granger again, somewhere down the line; that she has a future role to play in this war, and that her assistance will be crucial to Harry and young Weasley. It seems that our efforts may be lost without her."

"We have to find her, Albus," Severus rasped, quite unsettled by the implication that her reunion would not be happening anytime soon.

"No doubt," Albus agreed, looking pensive as he muttered again, "...no doubt." Turning his sharp eyes back onto Professor Trelawney, he asked gently, "Sybill, have you spoken these words to anyone else?"

As Severus turned his black gaze back onto the petrified woman, she shook her head emphatically, stuttering, "N-no, Headmaster! I c-came directly to you!"

In her confusion, she hadn't considered that 'spoken to' would possibly include '_written to,_' and had just begun to realize her mistake when she glanced up to find herself facing the end of the Headmaster's wand. Her eyes widened in surprise as he quietly incanted, "_Obliviate..._"

...


	37. Chapter 37

_**A/N**: Settle in, folks — this will be a long one._

* * *

><p>Chapter 37<p>

.

"But I don't understand," Hermione replied in a small voice, still shaken by the concept that a new prophecy had essentially named her as a key figure in the war against The Dark. She was trembling slightly, and had gone rather pale. "If the Headmaster had Obliviated Professor Trelawney, how did it get out? Weren't the only other witnesses inner-circle Order members?"

"They weren't the ones to leak it," Severus sighed, still exasperated by the whole ordeal. "Sybill had failed to mention that she had sent an owl to the editor of _The Quibbler_; apparently she regularly corresponds with him regarding her so-called 'prophetic' insights. He was only too eager to publish this particular piece, which was inexcusably foolish of him; aside from the idiocy of making such information publicly available— and, I assure you, the Death Eaters took immediate notice— the fool drew far too much attention to himself as a potential source of information. He's now being closely watched, putting his own safety at risk, as well as that of his daughter."

"His daughter? ...wait, isn't Luna Lovegood's father the editor of _The Quibbler_?"

"The very same."

"Oh, no... I hope nothing happens to her..."

"Miss Lovegood is safe enough for the moment. For now, I hope you can appreciate how much of a target you, yourself, have become."

Hermione swallowed nervously as she glanced up at Snape, exchanging a look of somber understanding with him. She had no doubt that this would make her a very important target, indeed.

"Do you think the prophecy is true?" she asked quietly.

Snape hesitated, looking pensive before replying, "Whether or not it was true to begin with is hardly important anymore — the fact is, it has become true enough now that it has been widely accepted. The Dark Lord now regards you as an immediate threat, and is doing everything in his power to ensure that you are not reunited with Potter and Weasley. Those two have also accepted it, and are more determined than ever to find you. At this point, I doubt that Potter will have the confidence to do what must be done until he has you back at his side."

Hermione looked troubled as she considered the implication, realizing how vital it was that she was set to rights in time to help her friends. _Was this why Snape had been so determined to help her? Is he that driven to win the war?_

"Where are they, now?" Hermione asked, postponing her earlier line of thought for future consideration.

"They are in hiding," Severus replied vaguely. When her answering look suggested that his reply was unsatisfactory, he added, "They are safe as can be at present; nobody knows exactly where they are."

"What?" Hermione asked in alarm, her voice raising as she started to panic, "You mean you don't even know where they are, or how they're doing?"

"Hermione, calm down," Severus softly coaxed, effectively distracting her again with the use of her first name. "Your friends are alright. I would know if they weren't."

"How?" she persisted, "How could you know such a thing if you don't even know where they are?"

Severus looked evasive before casually replying, "You're fated to see them again, remember? It's predetermined."

Scoffing, Hermione muttered, "You don't believe that."

As Hermione regarded his deliberately neutral expression, she realized Snape wasn't going to reveal any more on the subject than he already had. Sighing at the futility, she grudgingly changed the subject.

"This is all a lot to take in, Sir," she murmured, not noticing his slight flinch at the formal address as she stared at her lap. "Do you mind if we take a break for a moment? I'd like to think about this by myself for a little while."

Nodding in agreement, Severus rose from his seat, picking up the book containing the information on chastity spells. Hermione averted her eyes from the text, still embarrassed by the topic. "Very well; take your time," Severus lightly intoned, "I need to read through this more carefully. There may be pertinent details to be gleaned from related articles."

As Hermione nodded distractedly, Severus silently excused himself as he made for the relative tranquility of the front porch. The sun was low enough now not to be a bother, and he moved to sit at the far end of the deck, frowning at the abandoned quilt Nina had left out as he passed it. It was bewildering to consider that it had only been hours since he had tended to her sunburn, nearly deflowering her unknowingly in the process. ..._What if he had succeeded? _

Allowing a dark thought to enter his mind, he wondered what might have happened if the spell hadn't prevented him from taking Nina then— as he'd intended— if he hadn't realized that she was still a virgin. _...What a messy affair that would've been..._ As his imagination became increasingly vivid, he swore under his breath as he became aware of his burgeoning arousal. Feeling utterly despicable, he attempted to suppress the thought, focusing instead on the new task before him.

Somehow, he had to make Hermione stable enough to return to her friends. He recalled a time when he once thought it would be as simple as finding her (however difficult this itself had proved to be), then using her saved memories to undo the effects of her Obliviation. _What a simpler time that had been_... If only he'd known, then, how easy he had it, being so ignorant of the full situation. He should have realized that nothing in his life was ever less than infinitely complicated, especially if it really mattered to him. Not only was Hermione's mind warped beyond his imagination, but she was also bound by an exasperatingly esoteric form of magic that may or may not have linked himself to her in an incomprehensible way. If in fact this was panning out to mean what he expected it to mean, then there was a real chance that his only recourse would be to take Hermione's virginity, himself. Somehow, this potential act promised to be the single most scariest task that had ever been set to him.

It wasn't as if he'd never slept with a woman before — he'd had more casual trysts than he could actually remember... which was probably for the best. This was not to say that he was some kind of Cassanova, however; he was not so deluded as that. He knew exactly what other women saw in him, and knew his own limitations. Certain kinds of women had a tendency to gravitate toward him under the right conditions, though it was not exactly easy for him. He had simply learned the most effective way of securing a casual rendezvous, on the rare occasions when he sought them.

The first time it happened, he had been taken quite by surprise, never having realized his own potential until that day. He had been on holiday during his last year at Hogwarts, and was trying to find ways of occupying himself, avoiding the unhappy environment of his own home as much as possible (had he known that this would be the last year he'd see his parents alive, he might have made more of an effort to put in a few appearances outside of the odd mealtime, if only for his mother's sake... but then again, he might not). On this particular occasion, he was lurking about in a dim corner of a record shop in a part of town he wasn't very familiar with, browsing the titles disinterestedly, hoping that the clerk wouldn't ask him to leave once he realized that the strange young man had no intention of buying anything.

He had been browsing for some time before he realized that he was being watched, though not by the store clerk... an older woman of shady character was clearly eyeing his crotch with a speculative gleam in her eye, making Severus distinctly uncomfortable as soon as he caught on. He turned away and attempted to ignore her, figuring she was having him on, but she was not so easily deterred. He soon felt her approach him from behind, standing unusually close as he determinedly fixed his attention on the back cover of an album by a band he'd never heard of (he knew next to nothing about music, anyhow).

"You're an Eagles fan, are ya?" A low voice inquired from over his shoulder, pitched to sound flirtatious.

Confused by the scenario, Severus merely shrugged before muttering, "Never heard of 'em."

The woman barked a soft laugh before replying (her nearby voice even lower), "Then forget it, love. They're complete rubbish."

Glancing over his shoulder, Severus arched an eyebrow as the woman smirked at him suggestively, the scent of her cheap perfume and the gum she was chewing assaulting his keen senses. He replaced the album in the stack before moving away to the opposite row, surprised and slightly annoyed when the woman followed him, leaning back against the records beside him and offering him a less than subtle view of her ample bosom as she grinned broadly, smacking her gum around in her open mouth. Severus frowned slightly and gave her a questioning look, wondering what on Earth she could possibly want from him.

"You're a _big_ boy, aren't you?" She asked in an undertone, giving Severus a look that had never been bestowed on him in his life. His confusion must have been clear, because in the next moment the woman was nonchalantly cupping him through his trousers, causing him to jump back in alarm as her grin widened.

"Mmmm... I thought so," she leered, seeming quite pleased at her discovery. "Come on, love, don't be shy," she coaxed as Severus withdrew further, completely stunned by her forwardness. "D'ya wanna get out of 'ere?" She asked, giving him a look that left no question of her intentions, "I'll take good care of ya... won't cost you a thing."

Glancing up towards the front of the store, Severus could see that the clerk was eyeing him suspiciously, and knew he wouldn't be able to hang about there much longer. Though he was incredibly nervous about accompanying the strange woman wherever she meant to take him, it was, at least, somewhere to go. With a jerky shrug he silently acquiesced, and the woman grinned triumphantly. Slipping an arm around his waist, she led him toward the exit, laughing as she covertly squeezed his arse and made him stifle a yelp.

He'd lost his virginity that afternoon in a flat that was even shabbier than his own home to a woman that he'd met less than an hour before, and had been stunned to find that she seemed to be enjoying herself as much as (if not more than) he was. He left with a slap on the arse and an open invitation to come back anytime, though he never did.

Thereafter, Severus had discovered the one, single quality of his that he could use to attract women, provided they weren't put off by his other physical attributes. He invested in a somewhat tight pair of faded black jeans, and began frequenting Muggle bars whenever the mood struck him, learning to pick up women the only way he knew how: by leaning back— sometimes seated with his thighs parted wide— and waiting to be approached. He let his package do all the work — and, to his continual astonishment, work, it did... It wasn't as if he was monstrously large or anything — he was simply well-endowed, and women took notice. Though it didn't work every time, he could usually snag a woman's attention by displaying his assets just so. Granted, such women were always in their thirties and forties, even when he was still under twenty, himself; what's more, they were frequently intoxicated to some degree or another, and usually not the most attractive sort. Still, they were willing and easy, which was all he really required of them. He learned early on that it was never a good idea to stick around afterwards, since by the time the alcohol had worn off, most women were less than thrilled to realize who they'd taken home, impressive package or not. He'd spare himself from enduring their awkward post-coital disappointment by leaving quickly after the act, when they were still glowing with satisfaction. This way he always left them with a feeling of accomplishment.

And so, his sexual experience— although relatively vast— had only ever been limited to older women (though these days the type of women he used to attract would be closer to his own age, although it had been some time since he'd last been at leisure to pursue them), who were hardly attractive or interesting enough to sustain his attention beyond his immediate goal. He'd always used Muggle protection with them, and had fortunately never contracted any sexual diseases, despite how easy these were to treat with magical medicine (he knew of magical sexual diseases that were far more insidious, but never had to worry about these, as he'd never even been with an actual witch). He preferred the anonymity of Muggle encounters, and knew that the only types of witches who would have him, anyway, were far from ideal partners.

For all these reasons (and still more besides), the thought of sleeping with Hermione terrified him. She was a young, pretty, pure and intelligent witch; everything he'd ever desired but never dared to hope of possessing. He couldn't begin to imagine what it would be like to have her, and he didn't want to try. With Nina— at least in the beginning— there had been the illusion of sexual maturity, and her boldness had confused him, reminding him of his previous encounters while simultaneously confounding him with the novelty of a lithe young body and a startlingly pretty face. He was furthermore perplexed that this face so disarmingly resembled that of his former top student, though her mannerisms were less than familiar to him. On the few occasions where Nina had nearly succeeded in seducing him, he'd been able to psychologically fall back on the (admittedly flimsy) excuse that this wasn't quite Hermione Granger, at all. Now, faced with the prospect of bedding Hermione, herself— without the conveniently distorting justification he'd granted himself in regard to her counterpart— he felt extremely helpless, insecure, and rather depraved. Surely there was no way she'd consent to such an encounter without severely compromising her own standards. Only an act of true desperation would compel her... She'd effectively sacrifice her virtue to a monster, all for the sake of reclaiming what he'd stolen from her in the first place. It was virtual bribery of the lowest, foulest kind. _How would he live with himself, afterward? _

He'd been forced to perform some despicable duties indeed during his service to Voldemort, but somehow this seemed a million times worse. There was no Dark Lord over his shoulder this time, ensuring that he complete his task. There was only him— not the Death Eater, but the man— and no one else on whom he might transfer any culpability. If he did this, only he would be answerable for it.

...

Hermione shifted on the sofa as she reeled under the weight of her troublesome thoughts, momentarily allowing her attention to drift to the fact that she was still wearing the satin dressing robe. _Why wasn't she properly dressed? _— Surely Nina was behind this, though she couldn't imagine why. _Perhaps she'd been bathing? _Sighing from the pointlessness of trying to figure out the mysteries of her exotic counterpart, she rose from her seat and crossed to the bedroom to put on something more appropriate.

As she peeled off the robe, she was surprised to find that it clung to her back with an unexpected tackiness... more than it might have if she had simply been sticky with sweat. Reaching behind to touch her back, she felt an unusual texture, as if her skin was coated with a fine film of some sort. What's more, she felt unusually warm...

Turning to examine her bare skin in the mirror, she gasped to find that she was quite red all over. The clear line of a bikini top was visible across her back, as was the line just above the curve of her backside, almost appearing as if she were wearing panties. _When had she gotten such an extensive sunburn? _Even more curious, _why didn't it hurt like it should?_

She supposed her Potions Master might have provided some kind of remedy... that seemed like the most reasonable explanation. As her thoughts on the subject coincided with her ginger touch as she ran her hand over her heated skin, she felt a familiar tremor of peripheral awareness dart through her. As if a single frame of a repressed memory had been caught in her blurred vision, Hermione suddenly recognized a brief flash of a scene that seemed simultaneously fresh and long forgotten: in her mind's eye she pictured her professor's hand trailing up the inside of her thigh, feeling her own flush of wetness at the sensation. Gasping at the thought, she shook herself back into tremulous awareness as she struggled to piece together what was happening. Biting her lip as she reached down to feel between her thighs, she was somewhat startled to find herself in a peculiar state of arousal... _What's going on?_

As she unthinkingly slipped a finger through her slick folds, a strange sound emitted from her own throat, more erotic and wanton than any sound she could ever recall making before. Her eyes crossed as her head pulsed and her breath caught; she was distantly aware of her sincere effort to remove her hand, lest her professor overhear another of the weak moaning noises she was failing to suppress, but somehow it seemed beyond her control. She felt almost out of her own body, watching as she pleasured herself without conscious thought or action, at once frightened and turned on by her automatism. One hand gripped the edge of the chest of drawers in front of her as she stared blearily at the mirror above it, the other stroking herself with agonizing slowness, drawing out every sensation. Her face was flushed and her expression was uncommonly lustful, her eyes looking strangely not quite her own as she studied them closely, almost as if they were mocking her reaction to her own arousal. Another small cry escaped her lips— sounding more desperate now— as she began to lose the last of what little control she still maintained, surrendering to the force of her passion. As her open mouth quirked up in a naughty smile, she closed her eyes tightly and let go completely, wailing as her lust overtook her. Her last coherent thought had been of Snape's fingers pushing inside her, pushing her over the edge of reason.

...

A startling sound interrupted Severus' reading as he reclined at the edge of the front porch, causing him to lower his book to his lap as he stilled, straining to listen. It sounded like it had come from Hermione... _was she crying or something?_

Furrowing his brows, he rose uncertainly to make his way slowly toward the bedroom, finding the door closed. He tapped lightly against it as he asked, "Hermione? Is everything alright?"

Hearing a small burst of laughter muffled from behind the door, Severus frowned as he wondered what was going on. "I thought you might be in distress," he murmured awkwardly. His frown deepened as the laughter rang out again, clearer than before. After standing by uselessly for a long moment, he determined she must not need his assistance and wandered awkwardly back toward the sofa, leaning against the arm as he drummed his fingers against the side of it, waiting for her to reemerge. After listening to some small shuffling noises, the door finally opened as Nina walked out looking quite at ease in her little denim dress. He knew her right away by the way she walked to greet him, and by the sly look on her face.

"Someone's been a naughty girl," she smirked, gliding lazily over to Severus as her eyes danced with mischief.

"What are you on about?" he mumbled, immensely frustrated by the reaction his groin was having to the sight of her in that dress again.

"Guess who I caught diddling herself to thoughts of her teacher?" Nina laughed, gripping Severus above his knees and leaning forward as she twisted in place, playfully teasing him.

"Nonsense," Severus huffed dismissively, trying not to picture the obviously false scenario.

"Oh yes, it's true — she's hot for teacher," Nina confided in mock seriousness. "How do you think I managed to break through again? Apparently, coming to the thought of your hand playing with her pussy was too intense for the little slut..."

Scowling at the suggestion, Severus stood abruptly, pushing Nina's hands away as he moved to distance himself from her. "You're being vulgar," he muttered. "I won't stand for it."

Erupting in a tittering laugh, Nina pointed at his slightly tented trousers and objected, "It sure looks like you're _standing_ for it..." then broke off into greater laughter as Severus glanced down and flushed in embarrassment, turning away and cursing lowly.

"Oh Severus," Nina sighed plaintively, her laughter dying away, "you really need to relax. I could take care of that for you, you know..."

"Mind your own business," he spat back at her.

"But minding yours would be so much more fun," she retorted. Approaching him cautiously, Nina placed a gentle hand on Severus' back, leaning forward to rest her cheek against his shoulder blade and sighing, trailing her hand down to rest beside her lips. "I won't make you do anything you don't want to," she all but whispered, "but you know the offer still stands. The sun will be setting soon," she continued quietly, "...it's almost Christmas... let's make it a good one, shall we?"

After a pause, Severus murmured, "What did you have in mind?"

Pulling back with a smile, Nina draped her arms loosely around Severus' waist as he turned slowly to face her. "...I was hoping you'd ask me that..."

* * *

><p>"Come on... are you a wizard or aren't you?" Nina complained as Severus huddled over the dusty turntable she'd made him Levitate inside from the storage shed.<p>

"I think it's a lost cause," Severus sighed. "Even if I can get it powered up, this bit is all out of order," he said, pointing to the tone arm and counterbalance. "It would sound hideous, if it managed to make any sound at all."

"Can't you straighten it out?" Nina lamented, "I have faith in you, Severus..."

Giving her a withering look, he rolled his eyes and turned back to the confounding piece of machinery. _It was Christmas, after all..._ "I'll see what I can do, but I'm not making any promises, mind. There's every chance you'll be sorely disappointed."

"That's all I'm asking," Nina assured him happily, rushing over to press a quick kiss against his cheek before darting off again toward the closet.

Only fractionally annoyed, Severus shrugged off the gesture and went back to his complicated task. He was no handyman when it came to sensitive machinery, and _Reparo _could only go so far with Muggle devices. "Are you even sure those were records you saw back there?" he asked as Nina disappeared into the cramped space, pushing the step ladder out of the way and nearly knocking it carelessly into the Christmas tree.

"Of course," she murmured as she steadied the ladder, adjusting the bustier of her dress before returning to dig through the closet, "there's a whole crate of them back here. I'm not sure they'll be any good, though..."

As she dragged the heavy crate heedlessly over the various shoes and scattered objects on the closet floor, Nina straightened up momentarily to wipe some stray hairs back from her eyes, knocking a well-loved, acid-washed denim jacket off a hanger in the process. As she bent to toss it out of the way, she paused when she noticed the colorful patches that had been sewn decoratively all over the back and parts of the sleeves. "Cool..." she said with appreciation, slipping the oversized garment over her slender frame and turning to Severus with a grin. "How do I look?"

Severus glanced up at her over his shoulder, regarding the jacket expressionlessly for a moment before shrugging and turning back to his work.

"High praise, indeed," Nina laughed, shaking her head in amusement as she stuck her hands in the pockets, exploring her new treasure. She was surprised to find a small, hard object deep down in the left hand side, and withdrew it curiously, her eyes narrowing as she recognized it to be an unusual kind of cigarette lighter. It looked as if it had a kind of narrow compartment on one side, and she shook it slightly, noticing that the little chamber had some solid contents moving around in it. Flipping it open carefully, she tilted it sideways and allowed a single, well-preserved joint to fall into her palm. Eyes widening in surprise, she lifted it surreptitiously to her nose, smelling the unmistakable scent of marijuana. _Score!_

Hurriedly stashing her unbelievable find back in her pocket, Nina bit her lip in excitement as she thrilled with this happy discovery. It would surely be much drier than what she was used to smoking with Zoya after hours, but she suspected that the little stem of tightly-wrapped goodness would still be potent enough to render her quite baked, indeed. Convincing Severus to share it with her might be a problem, but surely stranger miracles had happened on Christmas eve?

Suppressing a shiver of elation, Nina turned back to the record crate she'd managed to unearth. As she flipped through the first few selections, she realized that this, too, was an unexpected treasure trove. Though some of the titles eluded her, she recognized many of the classic rock selections with escalating delight, already compiling a playlist in her head as she skimmed some of the track lists.

"Fuck, Severus — you _have _to get that thing working now... these are much better than I thought they'd be!"

"_Animare..._" the wizard quietly incanted, stepping back from the machine and watching as various parts sparked to life.

"You did it?" Nina asked in surprise, not expecting him to have managed it so soon.

"We'll see," he replied. Nina watched as he scrutinized the strobe pattern, tweaking a dial with minute adjustments.

"What are you doing, now?" she asked, trying to keep patient.

"Adjusting the speed," Severus answered with a touch of smugness. Though he still couldn't call himself well-versed in any genre of music, he had managed to learn the basics of turntable operation during his early years of one-night stands, not wanting to appear inadequate. He was a quick study, and one half-drunken tutorial from a particularly helpful lady friend had been enough to lend him the requisite knowledge.

"Do you see those moving dots?" Severus continued airily, pointing to an alternating row of tiny silver squares beneath the platform, lit up by a red strobe light. "I need to adjust the dial until I can get the bottom row to appear stationary; then the speed won't sound warped. Otherwise, whatever you play will sound like demented carnival music."

Severus hid a smirk as Nina nodded in understanding, looking mildly impressed with his expertise. As he fine-tuned the balance to his satisfaction, he reached out in Nina's general direction.

"Hand me an album."

Excitedly reaching into the stack of favorites she'd begun to set aside, she handed over Fleetwood Mac's self-titled album and watched eagerly as Severus carefully removed it from its sleeve. After placing it gently on the spindle and lifting the stylus, Severus arbitrarily placed the needle on the spinning record to test the sound. The speakers sputtered and cracked for a moment before resolving, the sound of _Rhiannon_ breaking through the static loud and clear:

_She rings like a bell through the night and_

_Wouldn't you love to love her?_

_She rules her life like a bird in flight and_

_Who will be her lover?_

_All your life you've never seen_

_A woman taken by the wind_

_Would you stay if she promised you heaven?_

_Will you ever win?_

_Will you ever win?_

Nina shrieked with joy, lunging herself at Severus and catching him in an abrupt embrace, spinning around in his arms as he nearly fell over from the assault. As he steadied them before they crashed into the turntable, she collapsed against him, pulling him tighter as she made another sound of jubilation, jumping in place excitedly as she clung to him. He quickly moved to separate her from his body, the friction of her excited jumping having an immediate effect on his too-long-ignored groin.

"You're welcome," he muttered.

...

It was fully dark by the time Nina had finished listening to _Rhiannon_ all the way through, having started it from the beginning after it played out from where Severus had left it. As she hummed along with the music, she continued sorting through the crate, setting aside albums she wanted to play. Meanwhile Severus was relaxing on the sofa, deciding he'd done quite enough for the day and willing to at least attempt to enjoy what remained of this Christmas eve. As he watched Nina's back, he recalled what she'd said earlier about Hermione, and how she'd managed to break through. _What if she hadn't been making it up? _Aside from what it might mean regarding Hermione's true feelings, if it had happened, it meant that Nina had somehow managed to witness part of it, even if only the tail end of it before breaking through. Apparently she had known what Hermione was thinking about at the time, which implied that her consciousness and Hermione's had momentarily overlapped. _If this were the case, did it mean that the two of them were somehow closer to integration? _Cocking his head to the side as he studied her from behind, Severus wondered whether Nina herself realized what such an overlap might indicate. If their mutual desire for him strengthened their connection, bringing them closer together, it might just be possible to use it to bring Hermione into proper alignment.

As he recalled the adjustments he'd made to the turntable's speed controls, Severus had a sudden epiphany: _What if it's only a matter of aligning the two sides by minute degrees until the underlying personality is stabilized, thus bringing the two together in harmony? ..._Not dissimilar from the rotating disks on the machine, Hermione was split into two opposing parts, each operating on a separate level, moving at differing rates and—for the most part—in opposite directions — though, lately, it was proving possible to bring the two into momentary alignment by pushing each side to just their limit... Push too far and one gives way to the other, one side breaking through and throwing the brief alignment out of balance once more as the given personality preponderates. It was the same with the record player: push the dial too far in one direction, and the music plays too fast; do the same in the other direction, and it plays too slow. Achieving a careful balance is key: by hitting just the right spot, the dots stop spinning and line up in perfect harmony, allowing the music to ring clear and true. _Could he apply the same principle to Hermione's situation? What if he could bring Hermione back by equalizing the opposing personalities, using their mutual sexuality as a center point? — _If he were to succeed at such an undertaking, both sides would require proper grooming: while Hermione's sexuality would need to be encouraged, Nina's would have to be subdued. Either task would surely be a formidable challenge. Perhaps in Nina's case, it would be necessary to first allow her to get as much lasciviousness out of her system as possible before attempting to tone it down...

Severus' reverie was broken when Nina suddenly rose from her position on the floor, glancing back at him over her shoulder with a sly smile as she crossed to the front door. _What's she up to, now?_

Nina paused in the doorway with her hand on the doorjamb, beckoning to Severus with a slight tilt of her head before disappearing onto the porch. Furrowing his brows, Severus grudgingly rose from his seat, pausing to glance down at the scattered records on the floor before stepping around them, slowly making his way out to meet her.

When he finally stepped out onto the porch, Severus' sharp nose picked up a familiar scent. Glancing over to find Nina leaning against the wall, he watched the lit end of her joint flare up as she inhaled a second hit, holding it for a long beat before exhaling a large plume of smoke. The act appeared so natural to her that he almost forgot that he was supposed to disapprove.

"Where on Earth did you get that?" he snapped, crossing over to her in his most intimidating stride.

"I found it in the jacket pocket," she smiled, quickly hiding it behind her back and out of his reach, lest he try to take it from her.

"Give me that," he demanded in a warning tone.

"Oh, Severus... _relax_... it's just a little weed... and it's _Christmas_... surely this is no worse than that wizard's moonshine we drank that one time..."

"You shouldn't be fooling around with mind-altering substances, especially in your condition," Severus insisted.

"Why not?" Nina challenged, "Cannabis is a medicinal drug," she offered. "It's a great leveler, too — I think it might be just the thing."

"What are you on about, now?" Severus asked.

"I'm just saying that maybe a few hits would help you unwind," she started in her most convincing tone, "—you and me, both..."

Severus arched an eyebrow at this, wondering whether she might have a valid point. Though he normally wouldn't approve of it, he and Nina were at a crossroad of sorts, with sexual tension driving him to the brink of insanity. Something had to give— if not for the sake of his own mental health, then perhaps for the sake of achieving the balance he'd been thinking about earlier. _This might be an effective way of releasing that excess of tension..._

"Have you ever tried it before?" Nina asked with a small grin, her eyes dancing as she realized that he was on the brink of capitulation.

"As it happens, I have," Severus replied a little defensively, "though it was many years ago. I'm certainly not in the habit of indulging in such foolishness nowadays."

Smirking at his defensiveness, Nina explained, "Me and Zoya used to smoke sometimes after shows — it really helped me relax after the worse ones. This stuff is pretty dry, but I can feel it coming on slowly... the slow-building kind is the best..."

Frowning at her greater experience, Severus watched as she took another hit. She held it longer this time before exhaling with a small cough, laughing a little as she recovered, before hesitatingly holding it out toward Severus. He paused for a long beat as he considered it, then, to her immense delight, took it gingerly from her hand and took a long drag. She beamed triumphantly as she watched him hold the smoke in his lungs, his eyes watering a little before he started coughing heavily, apparently overdoing it.

Nina laughed as he recovered, ignoring his scowl as he tried to retain as much dignity as possible. When she moved to take the burning joint back from him, he held it out of her reach, giving her a challenging look before attempting a second hit. This one hit easier than the first, and he managed to exhale smoothly as he felt the slow effects start creeping up on him. Handing the joint back to Nina, Severus watched the multicolored Christmas lights blink on and off, on and off... the rhythm soothing him in time with the music softly drifting out from the living room, as Fleetwood Mac's _Crystal_ brought the album to a close.

'_How did I ever get here?' _he wondered... _How had his life become this? Smoking marijuana with a former Gryffindor student— now a former prostitute of sorts— on Christmas eve in the Outback, while the wizarding world went to Hell? _

"Look out there!" Nina gasped beside him, her voice sounding oddly relaxed as the weed's effects started to become more apparent. Severus looked in the direction she was pointing, just barely managing to notice the flash of lightning in the far distance before it snuffed out.

"There must be a storm way out there," he noted absently, slightly aware of the obviousness of his statement, but not inclined to care.

Nina took another drag as she stared out at the faraway point, hoping to see another flash. After staring out in silence for a long beat, the pair of them heard the dull, distant roll of thunder echoing across the plain.

"How far off do you think the storm is, Severus?" Nina asked quietly, looking pensive as she handed him the joint. He stared at it for awhile, watching it burn slowly before taking another steady drag.

"Three seconds per kilometer," he answered at last.

"What?"

"You count the seconds between the thunderclap and the lightning flash," he explained in a distracted tone. "For every three seconds of delay, there's a kilometer of distance between you and the storm."

"How do you know that?" she asked in bewilderment, looking out again and waiting for the next flash.

"I'm intelligent," he replied bluntly, smirking at her before continuing, "...it's to do with the speed of light versus the speed of sound. It's actually not that complicated."

"You're so smart..." Nina replied in a hushed voice of genuine awe, still squinting at the horizon. Severus stared at her as she watched another flash light up a point in the distance, then started counting the seconds aloud under her breath. He was still staring at her without realizing it as her count climbed into the twenties and thirties, unaware that her timing was less than exact. At the count of forty four, a low roll of thunder interrupted her as she looked back at Severus, asking, "How many kilometers is that?"

Severus smirked before replying, "Your timing was off. You were counting much too slow."

"Why didn't you correct me?" she asked with a little frustration, taking the joint back from him.

"I don't think it would have done much good," he teased. "Anyhow, I estimate the storm's at least a dozen or so kilometers away. It won't touch us."

Nina looked thoughtful as she considered this, taking another long drag before handing it over again. The joint had burned more than half way through now, and was more difficult to hold.

"It's strange, isn't it?" Nina asked in a dreamy voice, "...It's like we're marooned out here on some kind of private island... storms can't touch us... the world can't find us... — even time doesn't seem to work properly here — not for me, at least... I mean, I might have been here just days, or weeks, or a whole year now and I'd hardly know the difference... it's almost peaceful, being this isolated... I don't really want to leave this place anymore..."

"_The more Odysseus languished, the more he forgot..._" Severus quietly contributed. As Nina looked up at him with slight confusion, he replied, "A quote. Milan Kundera."

Nina nodded vaguely, not knowing who Milan Kundera was, but digesting the sentiment well enough.

After a time, she asked with an impish look, "Does that make me Circe, again?"

Severus smirked down at her appreciatively, pleased that she was following his train of thought.

"I think we've established as much," he murmured, leaning back further into the wall to rest his head.

After staring outwards and watching the occasional lightning flash for another long beat, Nina suddenly remembered what was waiting for her in the living room. This reminded her of her earlier plan, which seemed to be moving along quite nicely.

"Are you stoned, Severus?" she asked, her hand ghosting around him as her fingers sought the joint he was still holding. He held it away from her teasingly, smirking as she leaned across him, straining to reach it, her right breast brushing against his chest. He released it as she stretched far enough, arching his eyebrow as she shot him a look of amused annoyance.

"I think I am," he answered at length, watching the smoke curl away from her with fascination as she gently exhaled.

"Good," she smiled, "so am I."

Offering him the last of it, Nina disappeared into the house as Severus took a final drag before dropping the roach on the porch, nearly stamping it out before he realized that his feet were bare. Blinking in astonishment at his predicament, he eventually had the presence of mind to bend down and pick up the still-burning roach, smashing the end out on the ground. Satisfied, he straightened up again, swaying a little with the sudden movement. The blinking lights around him were more disorienting than soothing now, and he decided to return to the living room.

As he went inside, he noticed that Nina had entered before him and had switched off the floor lamp, and was using the lighter from her pocket to light each of the candles she had set up. Between the candles and the Christmas tree, the dimly-lit room was giving off a vibe that Severus found quite pleasing; the place had never looked so cozy as it did now. A warm, euphoric feeling overtook him as he looked around, his eyes landing on Nina, who was returning his smile.

"Go sit on the sofa, Severus... relax," she coaxed, guiding him around the records as he gratefully took a seat, never realizing until this moment how comfortable the over-worn cushions actually were.

Suppressing a smile of accomplishment (for her plan was certainly going quite well by now), Nina all but fluttered over to the special pile of albums she'd set aside, carefully selecting one by The Police and setting it up on the turntable.

Severus watched her with half-closed eyes as she counted the grooves to the appropriate track and set the needle in place, smiling when the intended song began to play.

Turning back to Severus with a sultry look, Nina said, "I want to dance for you."

Though he might ordinarily have been alarmed by the suggestion, under the present circumstances Severus was surprisingly on board with the idea. If she wanted to dance, he would not stop her. To her great delight, he leaned back further in his seat and stretched his arms back, linking his hands behind his head in a gesture of invitation. She'd never seen him so relaxed, and his posture was immediately alluring. As she drifted languidly toward him, peeling her jacket off slowly as she went, the lyrics started up behind her:

_Roxanne, you don't have to put on the red light_

_Those days are over_

_You don't have to sell your body to the night_

_Roxanne, you don't have to wear that dress tonight_

_Walk the streets for money_

_You don't care if it's wrong or if it's right _

_Roxanne, you don't have to put on the red light_

_Roxanne, you don't have to put on the red light..._

As the beat picked up, Nina tossed her hair from side to side, smiling wide at Severus as he stared at her, looking fully intrigued. The red and green light from the Christmas tree was reflecting off Nina's skin as she swayed in front of him, and he marveled at the aptness of the lyrics.

"What is this song?" he asked, sounding a little dazed.

"Do you like it?" Nina asked, slightly breathless from her hair-tossing, her hands skimming sensuously down her hips as she turned toward Severus, explaining, "It's about a man who falls in love with a prostitute."

Nina watched as Severus made a strange face at her explanation, laughing quietly as she spun again and swayed her hips to the music. Severus could only stare at the beguiling sight, utterly transfixed.

As the song came to an end, Nina moved closer to Severus to lean on his thighs, smirking as she asked, "Do you want some of that cake now?"

It took him a moment to register what she was asking him, but he eventually nodded his head. Her smirk widened as she pulled back, biting her lip before spinning away to put on another album before hurrying off to the kitchen.

"You just relax," she said over the music, Nirvana's _Come As You Are _subtly altering the ambiance. "I'll bring you a plate."

Not inclined to get up anyhow (his erection was starting up again, but this came as no surprise; he was hardly bothered about it at this point), Severus just made a non-committal noise of assent as he tried to decide whether he liked this style of music or not.

_Come as you are, as you were, as I want you to be..._

The song was nearly finished by the time Nina returned with two plates of cake, setting them down on the coffee table before looking thoughtful for a moment, then pushing the entire table to the side, allowing more dancing space. Severus reached over for the cake as Nina darted back into the kitchen again, returning with two glasses of milk. As she sat down on the floor beside the coffee table, she looked up at Severus to see him frowning at his plate.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

He looked up at her with a funny kind of sad confusion, asking, "How am I supposed to eat this?"

Giggling at her mistake, she shot up again and ran to fetch them some forks.

"This music is a bit whiny, isn't it?" Severus complained around a mouthful of delicious Black Forest cake.

"You don't like Nirvana?" Nina asked, sounding almost shocked.

"I guess not," Severus replied a little guiltily, sulking a bit at her reaction.

"That's alright," Nina laughed, "I'll put on something else. There's plenty more to choose from..."

"More that you can dance to?" Severus asked, unable to stop himself.

"If you like," Nina smirked, looking very pleased with herself.

As she pulled another album from her pile, she giggled suspiciously as she decided on a song to play next. "You _have_ to like this next one," she said with humor, "...it's all about _you_..."

Severus furrowed his brow at the suggestion, slightly nervous about what she meant to imply with this next choice. If her song choices had hidden meanings— even explicit meanings, as it was— Severus might have to actually concentrate on listening, which was proving to be more and more difficult as his attention span kept drifting off on wild tangents. At the moment, he was largely occupied with the way the cake frosting dissolved against the roof of his mouth. Any other considerations seemed less pressing, by comparison...

While Severus marveled at the consistency of his dessert, Nina turned to face him again with a mischievous look, trying not to laugh as Heart's _Magic Man_ started playing.

_Cold late night, so long ago_

_When I was not so strong, you know_

_A pretty man came to me_

_Never seen eyes so blue_

_I could not run away_

_It seemed we'd seen each other in a dream_

_It seemed like he knew me_

_He looked right through me, yeah..._

Nina's laugh burst forth at Severus' expression — apparently he was wary about how this song was supposed to relate to him.

"My eye's aren't blue," he protested weakly.

"No, but they _are_ a very remarkable shade..." she grinned, biting her lip again as she danced lightly to the beat, pausing now and then to reach down for another bite of cake.

At a high point in the song, Nina started singing along enthusiastically, doing her best impersonation of a rock star as Severus looked on.

_Come on home, girl_

_He said with a smile_

_I cast my spell of love on you_

_A woman from a child_

_But try to understand_

_Try to understand, oh oh_

_Try, try to understand_

_Try, try, try to understand_

_He's a magic man, oh yeah_

_He's got the magic hands..._

At the last line Severus nearly choked on his bite of cake, making Nina laugh again.

"See? It's all about you!" She snickered, "You've got the magic hands, alright... I definitely remember them..."

"This song is ridiculous," Severus replied, trying not to look pleased with her compliment as he suppressed that particular memory, lest his erection return with full force.

"Okay — it is, a little..." Nina admitted with enjoyment, "...but it's still quite true."

Ignoring his doubtful expression, Nina sung along with the crescendo, mocking Severus with her eyes. Snorting at the words, Severus finished his piece of cake with relish as the song played out.

"Put on something else," he requested before the next track started up.

"Oh, alright," Nina smirked, "I only wanted to listen to that song, anyways..."

She returned to her stack with determination, looking for a song that she could dance to _properly_. She hadn't even begun to show Severus what kind of moves she was capable of — she hadn't spent all that time as a showgirl, slaving away in front of drunken idiots every night, for nothing...

"Ooh, I've got one," she murmured conspiratorially as she changed the record. She then picked up the discarded denim jacket from the floor and rushed off as the song started up with a slow, easy beat that seemed to make Severus' blood flow idly through his veins.

"Where are you going?" he asked, unable to hide his disappointment as Nina disappeared from his line of sight.

"To change," she called back, making Severus frown in confusion. _Why would she want to change out of that dress? _...Severus really did like that dress...

He soon learned that his disappointment was for naught, though, when Nina reemerged from the bedroom, padding slowly across the floor in her satin tap shorts. She had the oversized denim jacket pulled closed together with both hands, and was biting her lip—which was now a lovely shade of 'taboo red'—with exaggerated sensuality as she fixed Severus with her most seductive stare. The lipstick suited her, making her appear rather more grown-up, though with the rest of her getup it had the somewhat disconcerting effect of making her seem like a girl playing dress-up. Severus was confused by the contradictory effect, unable to disentangle his perception of the woman from that of the little girl.

As the lyrics of Led Zeppelin's _Since I've Been Loving You_ poured out of the speakers, Severus watched with heated eyes as Nina proceeded to dance slowly in the space she'd cleared, allowing her jacket to fall open teasingly at certain intervals, revealing with heart-racing impact the fact that she was wearing nothing else underneath. Severus was not too stoned in that moment to realize he was doomed.

_Working from seven to eleven ev'ry night_

_It really makes my life a drag_

_I don't think that's right_

_I've really been the best of fools_

_I did what I could, yeah_

_Cause I love you baby_

_How I love you darling_

_How I love you baby_

_How I love you, little girl, little girl!_

_But baby, since I've been loving you, yeah,_

_I'm about to lose my worried mind..._

Nina wasn't sure how to interpret the look on Severus' face as she danced for him, enticing him with well-calculated glimpses of her bare breasts as she used the over-sized jacket to great effect. He looked interested enough — there was no doubt about that. But something in his eyes seemed a little bit frightened, and not just in the way that men are sometimes intimidated by beautiful half-naked women. Then beyond that was yet a deeper look — one that was almost daring her to continue; calling her bluff. It was an implicit challenge that she meant to rise to.

Fixing him with an intent stare, Nina slowly danced toward Severus as she inched her way out of the light blue denim, exposing her shoulders as the sleeves bunched up about her elbows. The tops of her breasts were only just covered by the front placket, which was gaping slightly, exposing a narrow strip of skin from between her breasts to her waist. It wouldn't take much movement to expose them completely, but somehow she was managing to keep herself exasperatingly covered as she moved, prolonging the anticipation. Not used to dancing without heels on, she was pivoting around on the balls of her feet, attempting to compensate. The slow, steady beat of the music was guiding her dance, carrying her on its languid rhythm as her hips swayed and her thighs shifted back and forth, appearing as if she, too, were becoming more aroused by the minute. As the jacket finally fell to the floor in a heavy heap that was promptly kicked aside, Severus watched as she proceeded to move her hands all over her body, touching herself everywhere but directly on her plump, perfect breasts. Her nipples were taught and rosy, craving the touch that she withheld.

Suddenly she bent over and touched the floor, affording Severus a fine view of her satin-clad bum as she watched him from beneath her flipped-over hair, running her hands up her smooth legs as she slowly drew back into a standing position, dancing with her back to him as she pulled her hair forward, exposing the length of her bare back. Her skin was still a little reddened from her sunburn, but it had mostly faded now to a tan glow. The line of her bikini strap was still clearly defined, the sight of it causing Severus' already swollen groin to swell even further. It baffled him just how easily this girl managed to arouse him. He'd seen his fair share of naked breasts in his time, but somehow she managed to make the experience seem unaccountably new and exciting. There was an intensity to her sensuality that he'd never seen the like of before, possibly because such passion had never been directed at him. Whatever she was trying to do to him was undoubtedly working.

After close to an eternity, the song ended, Nina's hips still swaying as she went to change the record to Jimi Hendrix's _Electric Ladyland_. Severus had lost track of reality during her striptease, and was reclined on the couch in a total stupor, unable to tear his eyes from Nina for even a moment. He was perfectly content to sit around all night with a raging hard-on, watching her dance around him wearing nothing but her satin shorts and her red lipstick. It was truly the best Christmas he'd ever had.

He hadn't even realized that she'd started a new song; so lost was he in his inchoate requiescence. He vaguely picked out the words "Lord, I'm a voodoo child..." at some point, but was unable to concentrate on much beyond the vision of sensuality in his direct line of sight. The new song choice was even more soulful than the last, with far-out, psychedelic distortion that was catapulting him into a new sensory journey as Nina's moves became more loose than before — apparently she was tripping out in her own way, though hers had a grace and design that Severus' trip was lacking. All he could do was sit and stare, his limbs heavy with euphoric fatigue and possible blood loss (for surely it had all gone to his groin by now). Still, he wasn't complaining. As long as she kept dancing like that, everything was right in his world.

_Well, I make love to you,_

_And lord knows you'll feel no pain_

_Say, I make love to you in your sleep,_

_And lord knows you felt no pain_

_(Have mercy)_

_'Cause I'm a million miles away_

_And at the same time I'm right here in your picture frame_

_(Yeah! What did I say now)_

_'Cause I'm a voodoo chile_

_Lord knows, I'm a voodoo chile..._

Nina was dancing closer now; so close that Severus could feel the heat coming off of her. Before he realized what was happening, Nina was suddenly perched over his lap, her knees digging into the seat cushion at either side of his right thigh as she gyrated above him, twisting and swaying, lifting her hair up and letting it cascade back down over her bare shoulders, stroking herself and playing with her breasts mere inches from Severus' face. Combined with the music, her lap dance was so surreally erotic that he almost thought he was hallucinating.

Finally coming out of her own trance, Nina looked down into Severus' eyes with an expression of pure lust, breaking the illusory wall of demarcation by reaching for his hand, guiding it up over her thighs, trailing it slowly up her right flank and lightly across her breast, then lifting it up the rest of the way to her gently smiling mouth. Grinding slowly against his lap in time with the music, Nina proceeded to lick and suck Severus' middle finger, biting down on the tip as his muscles went slack and his arm began to drop. He made a strange noise then— something between a feral growl and the desperate cry of a dying animal— before Nina slunk down to nibble against the tendons of his neck. As she licked her way up to his earlobe—tugging on it with her teeth—her hips continued to rock against Severus' groin. By some miracle that he'd later conclude must have been related to the dulling effects of the marijuana, he managed not to come in his pants all throughout her tender assault. Even when her rouge-smudged lips captured his, her tongue coaxing his out to lazily tussle as she attempted to snuff out whatever dim senses he had left about him, his natural impulses held. In retrospect, he would regard it as quite an impressive feat.

Sometime later, Nina and Severus were both becoming increasingly drowsy. Though both were enjoying a constant, heightened state of arousal, neither were compelled to seek sexual completion — they simply lacked the energy to take it any further. Nina had gotten off in her own way from being able to dance so uninhibitedly for her captive audience of one, and had thoroughly enjoyed taking him to that level. She knew she could have fucked him then if she'd really wanted to, and, for her, that was almost good enough for the moment. She knew that the power she held over him now was as complete as it would ever be; it wouldn't take much at all to bend him to her will when she needed to.

Strangely, though, she wasn't sure that she really wanted to manipulate this man anymore... Something was changing between them. Though she couldn't pin down exactly what that was, she suspected that a careful kind of alliance was forming. It was all too new for her, too unfamiliar to make any kind of judgements yet — but at the very least, she was sure that she really did like him. She was starting to think— or at least hope— that he might like her, too... and if he did... if he really was someone she could call a friend, then her loyalty would know no bounds. Though she never expected to find such a man (never having trusted a man before), if he were found, she would not lose him. She would aim to please him with every bone in her body. She would do everything — anything — to make him happy. This was a compulsion that she didn't recognize, but she didn't doubt its sincerity.

"Happy Christmas, Severus," Nina whispered as the record ended, the still-spinning disk making quiet crackling noises as it went round and round, the speakers playing nothing but static. The candles were burning low and a calm quiet had settled over the place, heralding imminent slumber.

Severus looked up at Nina drowsily, reaching a tired hand up to brush the hair out of her eyes as his knuckles trailed delicately over her face, his eyes filled with a tenderness that was crushing to behold.

"How about one more song before we go to sleep?" Nina asked quietly, kissing Severus' knuckles as she pulled away to change the record. "This is a short one," she pointed out, "but it's one of my favorites."

Pulling another Hendrix album out of the stack, she set the needle to play the second-to-last track. As the easy melody of _Little Wing_ drifted across the open space, Nina returned to the sofa where Severus had stretched out, lying back against the side cushion, and laid down on top of him, rejoicing in the feel of his arms as they automatically wrapped around her bare skin. As the lyrics drifted in an out of their fading consciousness, they fell asleep together, perfectly comfortable in their respective positions.

_When I'm sad, she comes to me _

_With a thousand smiles, she gives to me free _

_It's alright she says it's alright _

_Take anything you want from me, _

_Anything._

_Fly on, Little Wing..._

...

* * *

><p>Early the next morning— when the sky outside the dusty windows was still Bible black as the sun began its slow ascent from somewhere beneath the far side of the globe— parents around the country were slipping out of beds in their quiet homes, placing hidden presents under trees and disposing of sherry and mince pies left in offering for Santa. In the quiet stillness of this particular house, the only activity was the gentle breathing of the couple entwined on the sofa as the record player continued to spin out an endless loop of softly crackling static. The candles around the room had long since burned down to molten pools of red wax, leaving the room lit only by the muted glow of Christmas lights.<p>

Hermione woke to the hum of Severus' slow breathing with her ear pressed against his warm chest, blinking in confusion as the residual effects of last night's activity muddled her senses. Her first coherent thought was the realization that she was entirely naked from the waist, up; her second thought— though not quite as coherent— was that the hard plane of Severus' body felt amazing pressed against her soft breasts. Though she would have been anxious to know what wild escapade might've brought her to her current position, for the moment she was too distracted to pursue it.

Still straddling Severus' lap, Hermione soon noticed a pressure between her legs and realized that not only was he almost fully erect, but he was positioned right up against the most intimate part of her. Her stomach turned at the thought, but it was more out of an unfamiliar, nervous kind of excitement than anything else. Her whole body was waking up with unprecedented awareness, overrun with sensation. She felt her nipples harden against Snape's torso as his steady breathing caused the fabric of his rumpled t-shirt to roll against her chest, rising and falling with the slightest friction, tickling her skin in places and igniting it at every point of contact. She felt her own body temperature rise, colliding with his own sleepy heat and rebounding, making the air around them feel heinously warm. He must have felt it, too, because suddenly the heavy arm that was draped around her slender waist shifted, and she held her breath as she felt slow alertness seeping into the muscles of the man beneath her.

Severus' other arm wriggled out of its confinement between her right side and the back of the sofa, lazily gathering her hair and swooping it to the side as he adjusted beneath her, stilling when he noticed his erection, which had marginally grown in the last few moments. He could feel the soft heat of her through the satin of her shorts as the head of his swelling cock strained toward her, seeking her out, and as he held his breath in cognizance of his situation, he could've sworn he felt her pulse against him.

Shifting ever so slightly to let him know she was awake, Hermione slowly turned her head, her hot hand pressed against his upper ribs, steadying her as she rose up just enough to look at him. His hand, still tangled in her hair, hovered beside her face as she tilted carefully against it, leaning into his caress as she met his eyes with nervous but earnest affection. Severus blinked as he stared back at her, regarding the unexpected sincerity in her open eyes. Her lips seemed especially plump as they were, still smeared with traces of last night's lipstick, and her hair was beautifully mussed, falling haphazardly about her pretty, flushed face, her eyes sparkling with curiosity and timid trust and something peculiarly daring. Despite the demurely seductive overtone, he knew at once that this wasn't Nina on top of him. But no matter who she was at that moment, looking as she did just then, Severus was unconditionally in love with her. In this moment she truly wanted him, and was letting him know it despite her self-conscious reservations. He was suddenly very hard.

As he shifted a little uncomfortably against her stomach— drawing attention to his tumescence with a slight look of apology— he was surprised when Hermione suddenly wriggled against him, gasping in synch with him as he drew his head back to scrutinize her closely, his eyes searching hers as he sought her intentions, his hand flexing acquisitively against her scalp. She leaned further into his touch, her lower eyelids squinting slightly and her jaw slackening as she experimentally flexed her hips, watching him inhale sharply as she furtively repositioned herself until she was fully straddling his lap. As she arched her back to rise up over him, both hands pressing into his chest, Severus glanced over her exposed torso, noticing her hard nipples and the slight flush that extended down from her cheeks and over the delicate plane of her décolletage. Her tan line was only slightly faded, her breasts still pale and pert as they contrasted erotically against the sun-kissed tones of her surrounding skin. From this intimate proximity, he noticed the occasional freckle spaced out in scattered points across her body, new constellations he had yet to learn. He watched her expression closely as the hand that was perched lightly against her waist began to trail delicately up her left side, his fingertips barely grazing her as she shivered slightly, breathing heavily as his thumb slowly traced along the underside of her breast before circling her nipple with careful experimentation. He watched in fascination as her eyes fluttered shut, then sucked in a deep breath through her open mouth as the hands on his chest flexed, her fingertips pressing into his flesh.

His right thumb continued to play with her nipple as his left worked its way down her bare back, stroking her ribs as it crossed to her front, then skimmed up to cup the opposite breast. Hermione opened her eyes to stare back at him through heavy eyelids, breathing heavier as he gently worked both nipples simultaneously, her eyes glazed as she met his dark, all-consuming stare. He'd seen Nina in the throes of rapture before, but somehow this was something else entirely. He knew that this side of Hermione had never been touched in this way before, and he watched—captivated—as her open expression conveyed the full range of her surprise, trepidation, and of an ever-expanding, blissful awareness. It was quite a thing to behold, and he was certain he'd remember witnessing it in exact detail for a long time to come; no pensieve would be needed to recall the expression that was now permanently burned into his memory.

As his movements shifted from gentle caresses to more determined groping, trying to push the limits of her enthralling facial expressions, Hermione's hands strayed to Severus' shoulders and trailed up the length of his arms, gripping his bicep in one hand and his forearm in the other as he continued to amplify her sensations, causing her to bite down hard on her lip as she stifled a whimpering moan. Releasing her breast to gently tug her lip back out with his thumb, Severus caught her unfocused gaze as he took her chin in hand, forcing her to maintain eye contact as he continued tweaking her nipple with his other hand, his eyes mutely coaxing her to make whatever noises she was trying to hold back. Her own eyes became a little watery as she stared back at him desperately, whimpering uncertainly as his hand swept down the length of her torso and over her satin shorts, lightly tracing around the perimeter of her mons as she instinctively flexed her hips to allow him greater access.

Her breaths were coming harsher now as he watched her face, feeling around delicately before he slipped a searching finger inside the inner seam of her tiny shorts, probing until he met with her unquestionable wetness. Hermione watched his eyes flash intensely as he felt her, her breath shuddering at the look on his face. _She was doing this to him_, she thought with incredulity. He was coming undone before her, as much as she was surely coming undone before him. The sheer intimacy was staggering; the power, addicting.

Without saying a word (for their eyes were saying more than enough at the moment), Severus vanished her tap shorts with an importunate gesture. Now entirely naked astride him, Hermione tensed as her erstwhile Potions master took a moment to run his hands and eyes over her appreciatively, before recognizing her discomfort and vanishing his own clothing as well. He laid still with his hands perched at her hips, allowing her to relax as she became accustomed to their mutual nakedness. His thumbs flexed idly into the flesh above her ovaries as she trailed a tentative hand lightly over his chest, marveling at the taught planes of his body, his nearly hairless pectorals, his broad shoulders, his nervously bobbing adam's apple... Meeting his gaze, her stomach sank as she suddenly recognized a trace of uncertainty in his eyes, as if he feared she'd reject him. ..._Does he not realize how attractive he is?_

Unwilling to break the meaningful silence between them— and not knowing any words sufficient to express her complex feelings, anyhow— she decided to show him just how much she wanted him. Gently touching the side of his face, her eyes searched his as she leaned down toward him, nodding her head slightly as he seemed to seek her consent before cradling her head in both hands as she tilted to kiss him. Their kiss was slow and experimental, and— like any first kiss— fueled by a barely-restrained, fluttering excitement. Every shaky intake of air, every unsteady move to reposition themselves as they learned how to navigate each other's topography was infinitely precious. By the time Severus slipped his tongue in her mouth, Hermione was already convinced she would never experience a more thrilling kiss in her life. Her heart was racing even faster than it had when he'd pinched her nipples — she wanted to go on kissing him until the sun came up. She might have done, too, had she not felt his erection throb insistently against her thigh, gasping into his mouth as awareness of their nudity overtook her consciousness again. Severus pulled back to look at her face, his eyes focusing on her beautifully swollen lips as one hand swept her hair back into a loose knot at the back of her neck, the other stroking reverently down her rosy cheek.

Hermione bit her lip as she rotated her hips, her desire mounting almost uncomfortably as Severus stared at her mouth with lust-heavy eyes. Those eyes then darted to hers, recognizing the readiness she was conveying. She wanted him, and she wanted him _now._ Though he wasn't sure she even knew what it was that she wanted from him, he was too far-gone, himself, to deny her. Whatever reservations that remained quickly collapsed as he was confronted with the force of her want. He had to have her.

Gently repositioning her over his turgid length, Severus took one last moment to admire the wanton beauty in his lap, virginal and more perfect than anything he'd ever seen or would likely see again in his lifetime. She stared back at him innocently, silently imploring him for that which she knew not of, but clearly wanted with an apparent mix of apprehension and courageous eagerness, as much a Gryffindor in that moment as he'd ever seen her. Lovingly caressing her face with one hand, he wondered if she fully realized how unworthy of her he really was. _Too late to convince her, _he thought ruefully as his hand slid to her neck, his thumb resting in the hollow at the base of her throat as he pushed up slowly into her tight, wet heat.

He'd barely pushed the head inside before her whole body tensed, her left hand flying up to grasp his arm, the pressure of her grip communicating her rising panic as he steadily pushed past her resistance with an obstinate glint in his eyes. Hermione's breath caught in her throat as he tore through her, determined not to scream as tears stung her eyes and a relentless drumming echoed through her head. Primal magic saturated the entire room, thrumming around them in mounting pulses as an ancient spell came undone, though neither took any notice. Hermione was distantly aware that Nina wanted to break through before this went any further, but she resolutely resisted her interference, knowing it was too late to turn back now; Severus was efficiently obliterating what remained of her virginity in one fell swoop as his formidable cock drove ever deeper into her, splitting her apart physically as he simultaneously split through a psychological barrier, breaking down the wall which separated her from her fractured counterparts.

His face was tight with control as pushed up as fully into her as he could manage on the first go, groaning as he watched her mouth gape soundlessly as she stared back at him with teary eyes, looking entirely lost and totally fulfilled at the same time. He suddenly became aware of the magic rebounding around him as the ancient spell recognized its completion and released its host, departing in a bright flash that lit the entire room in white light for a split second as its piercing brilliance saturated both the ethereal and the corporeal bodies of the two lovers, leaving Hermione herself nearly glowing with residual energy as it faded away. With a broken cry of glory as his heart swelled beyond its known limitations, Severus pulled out from under her, bracing her with hands positioned at her hip and neck before thrusting up harder than before, finally breaking her mute astonishment as a faltering cry tore from her throat and her unshed tears spilled down her flushed cheeks.

The intensity of the moment was too much for him as he thrust rabidly into the faintly-glowing young witch, who was looking far too beautiful with her teary eyes, shining with desperation and need and a singular resilience. Taking her hips in his strong hands, he pulled her hard against him again and again as she braced herself on his shoulders, wailing in anguished surprise as he drove into her possessively. Twining his arms around her back, he pulled her slight frame tight against him as he kissed her desperately again before crying into her mouth, arching his hips as he thrust deeply once more and came into her with a powerful spurt, his strangled noises of completion muffled against her shoulder as he held her tightly, his whole body stiff for a long moment before he relaxed against her with a dying moan.

...

Severus lay spent beneath her, his heavy breaths slowly steadying as he stroked her hair while she laid crumpled against his chest. At length, Hermione uncurled herself enough to rub at her head, realizing that something felt different: the drumming in her head had ceased at last, and had been replaced by a kind of static as her psychological barriers crumbled little by little, slowly allowing the disparate personalities to leak into one another, despite their stubborn reluctance to integrate. Beyond all this, lingering traces of the previous night's activities had left her with a slightly altered, heightened sense of reality, and she looked down to stare in disconnected wonder at a milky trail of semen as it slowly coursed down the inside of her thigh, mingling with traces of her blood. The sight was utterly unreal to her; her present mindset made her feel as if she were outside of her own body as she watched it. She was a little surprised, then, when she felt warm fingers swipe softly at her cheeks, not having been aware that she'd shed tears.

"Why are you crying?" Severus asked gently, his voice sounding almost foreign in its tenderness.

Swiping at her own eyes before looking down at him, she replied, "I don't know; I didn't realize that I was."

As he reached out for her, Hermione allowed him to pull her back down onto his chest, where he resumed stroking her hair and back tenderly as she focused on the soft rise and fall of his chest beneath her.

"Do you feel any different?" He asked quietly after a long pause, the fingers of one hand idly tickling the back of her neck while the other traced long sweeps up and down her spine.

Hermione frowned as she thought about it, trying to determine just how much the personalities had merged so far.

"I think the barriers are coming down, but I can't conclusively say just how much we've integrated yet, if at all..."

"That's not what I meant," Severus replied, his hand stilling on her back for a moment as he quietly clarified, "I mean... now that we've..."

Hermione tensed slightly, murmuring, "Oh." She furrowed her brows as she considered the question, wondering what kind of answer he possibly expected from her. "I would've thought that my psychological progress would've been your foremost concern at the moment," she continued uncertainly, making Severus frown slightly, "I mean... that's what this was all about, wasn't it? Getting my virginity out of the way so that Nina and I could finally integrate?"

"It doesn't have to be," Severus murmured, tentatively stroking her hair again, "...all about _that_..."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked quietly, worrying her lip with her knuckle as her heart pounded unsteadily while she waited for him to elaborate.

Severus gently lifted her head so that she was looking at him, waiting patiently for her reluctant eyes to meet his as he answered, "I mean that I don't want to let go of you after this, Hermione." His voice hoarse as he added, "I _can't_ let go, after this."

"What are you saying?" She asked in a small voice, struggling to keep eye contact for all his intensity.

"I'm trying to say..." he started, swallowing thickly, "...that is, I'm asking you..."

Whatever Severus was struggling to ask was cut short when Hermione suddenly winced in pain, her hand flying up to grip her head as a rush of electricity seemed to jolt through her brain without restraint, scrambling her thoughts and leaving her quite disoriented.

"Hermione?" Severus asked in alarm, pushing himself up straighter to grip her by the shoulders, "What's wrong?"

"My head..." she cringed, "...something's happening..."

Severus worriedly watched her face as she caught her breath. "It's Nina..." she gasped, "I can feel her... she's trying to break through..."

"Can't you tell her this isn't a good time?" Severus asked in consternation.

"I think that's why she's so insistent..." Hermione squeaked, unable to bear the psychic intrusion. "I can't fight her anymore," she choked out, "—something's wrong—I have to let her through..."

Severus watched with increasing anxiety as Hermione seemed to wilt before him, her breath escaping in one long sigh before she suddenly inhaled sharply, her head snapping up to stare at him with panic in her eyes.

"Severus," Nina gasped, gripping his wrists as he held onto her shoulders, "help me — I think I'm dying..."

...

..

.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: **here's a playlist I put together of songs featured so far: _

youtube dot com /playlist?list=PLfRPOUUIokVrmpCEf_GPjeXJkfGUOCbcJ

_Just remove the spaces and enter an actual dot in place of the word 'dot' — If for some reason the link doesn't work, google my youtube channel, "smallhouseglowing," and go to the playlist, "Waking the Witch."_

_(the first four songs posted there are from chapter 10)_


	38. Chapter 38

Chapter 38

.

_"Severus," Nina gasped, gripping his wrists as he held onto her shoulders, "help me — I think I'm dying..."_

...

Far off in the distance, a gruff-looking wizard with a massive chip on his shoulder landed in the dust, appearing quite the worse for wear. The dark circles under his eyes betrayed the long, sleepless nights he'd been forced to endure in his tireless search for his elusive target, making him appear several years older than he was. When so many others were hot on the trail, sleep was not a luxury he could afford. It was vital that he got there, first.

The burst of magic that had been detected earlier that morning had come from somewhere south of where he now stood, and he narrowed his eyes as he looked out over the dark expanse, scanning the horizon for any sign of activity. He snarled in an unpleasant sort of triumph when he spotted a blinking light coming from a point not too far off, and promptly Apparated closer to check the area for wards.

Not wanting to give himself away, the stealthy wizard kept low as he ran through some inconspicuous diagnostics, determining—with some surprise—that no wards had been erected around the perimeter of the humble dwelling. As he lowered his wand he squinted in confusion, wondering whether he had the right place. _That could be what he wants us to think, _the wizard considered; _nobody would suspect him of hiding out in an un-warded shack—especially one decked in blinking lights—unless he truly _has_ lost his mind..._

Cautiously approaching on foot, the wizard noted that the sun was beginning to rise; soon he wouldn't have the cloak of darkness to cover him. Not wanting to draw attention to his approach by Disillusioning himself (for such a trick would easily be detected by the wizard he believed to be in residence here), he decided to be quick about it, hoping to get the drop on him. There was every indication that the errant wizard—if he really was hiding inside—was not expecting visitors.

As he approached the house, the new wizard could recognize the outline of a Christmas tree through the far window and shook his head at the irony (attending to this unpleasant business was not at all how he'd intended to spend his Christmas this year). Side-stepping quietly toward the front of the house, the skulking man paused as he heard voices coming from inside, clearly identifiable as they drifted out from the open doorway. One belonged to Snape, alright: he'd know that distinctive baritone anywhere. The other, he was quite positive, belonged to the missing girl... _He found her!_

The pair seemed to be conveniently distracted for the moment as Snape apparently tried to offer the distressed girl reassurance; she sounded completely inconsolable. Using their preoccupation to his advantage, he turned the corner and made his way along the length of the porch, noticing a questionable number of pornographic magazines scattered about. His keen nose picked up the scent of a recently-extinguished marijuana cigarette, and he frowned in confusion as he stepped over the smashed roach. ..._What has Severus been getting up to, here?_

Unable to waste time dwelling on the incriminating evidence, the wizard took a deep breath and swung through the doorway with his wand drawn, his abrupt entrance taking the two inhabitants completely by surprise. To the intruder's alarm, he found himself in the rather awkward position of facing off against a completely naked, regretfully wandless Severus Snape; to make a matters worse, he was sitting lengthwise on a battered old sofa with an equally naked Hermione Granger in his arms, the air thick with the smell of sex. The girl had tears running down her cheeks and looked quite distraught—_which he supposed any girl would be, if confronted with a stark naked Snape_... Both were staring back at him with wide eyes from their compromised position, apparently having been left gobsmacked by the interruption.

"Don't even think about it, Snape," the wizard warned as he noticed the tell-tale flinch of his opponent's fingers as he moved to summon his wand. "_Give me a reason_; don't think I'll hesitate to kill you..."

"NO!" The girl suddenly shouted, pulling closer to Severus as he stared down the intruder with rueful disbelief.

"Get back, Hermione," the strange wizard warned, his wand steadily aimed; _why was she protecting him? _"Whatever he's told you was a pack of lies... Get away from him, now," he insisted.

"You're making a mistake, Lupin," Severus interjected in a low, unsettling voice. "This is not what it looks like..."

"Oh, I really doubt that, Snape..." Remus countered with a cold laugh, his tense posture implying that he wanted nothing more than to hex the Dark wizard into oblivion. "It seems everyone's been right about you all along."

"_I mean it_," Severus continued with as much patience as he could summon, his dark eyes penetrating, "you have the wrong idea. I can explain."

"I think I'll pass on that tall tale, Snape, though I admit to having a morbid curiosity as to how you could possibly attempt to justify your way out of evidence as damning as this. As it is, I'm quite pressed for time. Hermione," he spoke firmly as he addressed the young witch, keeping his eyes trained on Severus, "please, step away from him. We have to go, _now._"

"Fuck you!" Nina spat back at him, taking him by surprise as he darted his eyes toward her in concern, "I'm not Hermione, you prat! And if you hurt him, I'll fucking _kill you!"_

"Hermione?" Lupin asked in confusion, as Severus' eyebrows shot up at her livid protectiveness, "...Don't you know who I am?" Lupin did not like how she was looking at him as if he were a total stranger—_Apparently Snape had been taking his sweet time undoing her Obliviation; this did not bode well..._

"I don't care who the fuck you are," she shouted, "just get out of here! Leave us alone!"

Lupin watched in bewilderment as Snape proceeded to wrap his arm more firmly around the hysterical girl, attempting to calm her while he partially shielded her nakedness, staring at Lupin venomously.

"This really is _a bad time_, Lupin," he murmured, his sardonic tone somewhat at odds with his thunderous expression, "perhaps we can reschedule?"

Frowning at the inappropriate humor, Remus tightened his grip on his wand as he warned, "Hermione, if you don't step away from him now, I'll have to use force." As the distraught girl looked up at him fearfully, his eyes softened a fraction as he caught a glimpse of her despair, adding in a gentler tone, "He's not to be trusted, Hermione; no matter what he's told you, that man is _not _your friend."

Shaking her head in disbelief, Nina clung weakly to Severus while another searing, electric jolt tore through her brain, making her cry out in distress.

"What's wrong with her?" Lupin demanded as Severus touched her hair soothingly, glaring at the werewolf. "What did you do to her, you bastard?"

"Spare me the tedious moral superiority routine, Lupin," Snape snapped back at him, cradling her head in both hands; "she's having a mental crisis, and your superfluous presence here is not helping!"

_'Has the entire world gone mad?' _Lupin wondered; _'War is escalating and Snape is sitting around naked with a teenaged witch, playing therapist?' — _"You really are one sick son of a bitch," Lupin accused, reaching the limits of his sleep-deprived condition, "What have you been doing with her all this time?" he charged, assuming that Snape had snatched her the previous evening, when he'd set off the Dark Mark alert. "Why haven't you brought her to your precious Dark Lord, yet? Did you want to have a little fun with her on your own, first, you despicable bastard?"

"_This doesn't concern you!_" Severus shouted angrily as his temper flared, his self-control rapidly diminishing under the strain of his increasingly intolerable predicament.

"Of course it concerns me, Snape! It concerns _everyone! _Your selfishness is truly unbelievable — first Albus, and now _this!"_

"_Shut up," _Severus warned him dangerously. "Your _arrogance_ is what's truly unbelievable; you're a fool to assume that you can possibly understand my motivations."

"I think you've made that motivation perfectly clear, old boy," Lupin sneered derisively, subtly gesturing at Hermione. "And to think that I _defended _you..." Seeing a momentary flash of astonishment cross Snape's features, he continued, "Oh, yes — what a fool I was, to think there was actually a chance that you were anything more than _absolute scum_, as everyone else was insisting. Well, you've certainly proved them right; somehow, I doubt Harry will be thrilled to hear it."

Their quarreling was waylaid when Nina let out another cry of agony at the mention of Harry's name. Gripping her head in both hands, she tried to ignore the flashes of memory that railed insistently against her stubborn consciousness as it recoiled from the onslaught. _Why does that name sound so familiar...?_

Unwilling to tolerate Lupin's goading any longer, Severus took advantage of the momentary distraction and made a move for his wand. His effort was in vain, however, as the tension-wracked werewolf caught the movement in his hypervigilant perception. Without any further ado, he hit the Dark wizard with an effective stunner.

"_NO!"_ Nina screamed, panicking as Severus took the impact of the spell and collapsed against the back of the sofa. Throwing herself on top of him, she attempted to shield him from further assault, turning to face Lupin over her shoulder as she sobbed in a small voice, "_What have you done?"_

Lupin tentatively approached the sobbing girl, confused by her emotional reaction. He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder as he attempted to pull her away, only to have it promptly shrugged off.

"_If you killed him..._" she hissed threateningly, narrowing her watery eyes as she turned to glare at the other wizard.

"He's not dead," Lupin explained in a flat tone, "just stunned. Though I ought to kill him, you know."

Looking speculatively at the furious young witch as she challenged him with bright, fiery eyes, Lupin sighed inwardly as he accepted the distasteful notion that the bastard would live to see another day. He had to get Hermione away quickly before the rest of the Death Eaters tracked her down, as the Order had only just managed to intercept the alert that the Australian Ministry had sent out over twenty four hours ago. At least Snape would have to return to his master empty-handed; that marginally satisfying thought would have to be consolation enough.

"I'll let him live," he assured her grudgingly, "but you have to come with me, _now._"

Picking up the denim jacket he found piled on the floor (for there were no other clothes in sight), Lupin draped it over Nina's shaking shoulders as desperate sobs continued to wrack through her.

"_Severus,_" she whispered, stroking his unconscious face as she kissed him softly, "Come back to me,_ please..._"

Trailing her unsteady fingers through Snape's hair as she reluctantly allowed Lupin to draw her away, Nina cried out in a small, broken moan as she stared helplessly at her naked lover. Lupin watched the little drama in consternation, trying to fathom what this bizarre scene could possibly mean as he secured the large jacket around her slight frame. Reaching into his pocket to pull out a battered old corkscrew, Remus wrapped Nina's hand in his as he whispered "_Portus,_" activating the Portkey as a strong, magical pull hooked around each of them and drew them swiftly into compressed space, irrevocably delivering them to their faraway destination as a dreadful silence descended over the living room. As sunlight began to filter in through the dirty windows, Severus lay in abject stillness as another Christmas morning broke all around him.

...

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: **Oh, dear... you had to have seen this coming, though, right? (FYI, this was how the last chapter originally ended, but I thought it would be kinder to leave it on a slightly less chaotic note—the next one will be much longer than this)._

_We've now come to the central turning point in the story — the terrain has changed, but the ride isn't over! There's some very fun stuff up ahead as our confused heroine adjusts to the outside world, and her erstwhile lover makes a decision...  
><em>


	39. Chapter 39

Chapter 39

.

Remus and Hermione sank to their knees as they landed in wet sand— the cold, soft ground breaking the impact of their arrival. A light rain was drizzling down about them as they took a moment to adjust to their new surroundings, and Remus promptly took off his shabby overcoat to wrap Hermione in. Though the winter climate on this beach in Cornwall wasn't nearly as cold as most other parts of the country, it was still a shocking change from where they had just been. It was now close to seven o'clock in the evening in the U.K. — Remus had made it back in time for Christmas after all.

Hermione was shaking as Remus wrapped the coat securely around her, and he realized that it was from more than just the cold. He could detect the scent of fear on her, along with that of marijuana smoke, recent arousal, seminal fluid, and... _blood? _Helping her to her feet, he took a moment to regard her face, noticing her changed features as he scanned her eyes for signs of trauma. Something was not right with her; that much was perfectly clear.

"Are you hurt?" Remus asked as Hermione looked toward the sea, shaking her head dismissively. ..._Why was she lying to him?_ Remus ducked his head slightly, attempting to catch her attention as she avoided looking at him. The rain fell a bit harder as a strong wind blew across the dark beach, its howling funnels kicking up white caps in the distance.

"I should get you inside," he said quietly as she finally met his eyes, staring back at him with a strangely disconcerting look.

"Where are we?" she asked in a flat tone.

"On the outskirts of Tinworth, the magical community in Cornwall," he replied, "—there's a cottage nearby where you'll be safe for the time being. Bill and Fleur should be in; they can look after you while we figure things out." When Hermione just looked confused, he elaborated, "Of course, you wouldn't know — I'm sorry. They married, you see. So did I, as it happens..."

Remus could see that Hermione seemed even more confused by his attempts to fill her in, and decided that such news was better put off until she was settled in. "Never mind, love— I'll tell you later. Here, take my arm — we'll Apparate to the location."

As Hermione reluctantly cooperated, she felt the beach give way beneath her as the pair vanished into compressed space, only to land again with slightly more ease than before on a damp sand dune that was generously speckled in sea lavender. They were standing behind a lovely white cottage whose exterior was embedded with hundreds— maybe thousands— of sea shells, which shone with a quiet luminosity even in the dark night. The place looked as equally lonely as it was beautiful on the otherwise deserted beach, where nothing but sea and scrub-covered sand stretched out before it; behind, black cliffs too dark to see loomed large, their presence hard to make out beyond the veil of rainfall. Hermione's heart sank when she couldn't find any way of escaping on foot. _Trapped again!_

Remus frowned as he saw that the windows were unlit; no smoke was coming from the chimney, either. "They must have gone to The Burrow after all," he remarked absently, placing a hand on Hermione's back as he guided her down toward a little trail that led to the back entry.

As the wards outside the door recognized Remus as a friend, it granted him and Hermione entry, swinging open with the distinctive creak of hinges long exposed to salty air. Remus began lighting the numerous hurricane lamps that were scattered about the place, illuminating more shells and bits of sea glass embedded throughout the interior. He then set a fire in the cozy hearth, offering Hermione a seat close beside it as he went about trying to fix tea in the unfamiliar kitchen. He'd never been at the place when Bill or Fleur weren't around to host him, and felt a little awkward playing host to Hermione now. She seemed reluctant to speak, which was unlike the girl he remembered. He wondered, not for the first time, just what kind of indignities she might have suffered at Snape's hands, to add to the horrors she must have gone through before he caught up with her. Until that morning, he had held a small hope that— despite all that had transpired— Severus still wasn't quite as bad as he seemed, and perhaps truly did want to help the girl. Though this thought had been unpopular among his peers, he felt that _someone_ had to give the git the benefit of the doubt, if only to keep the others from being too hasty in their judgements. But now, after what he'd seen when he'd burst in on him that morning, any charitable thoughts that he'd maintained toward the Dark wizard had been effectively dismantled.

Hermione stared into the fire as the moisture on her hair and skin slowly began to evaporate, though its warmth did nothing to penetrate the cold that had inhabited her heart. _Severus, _she chanted plaintively in her head, over and over, the single word breaking through the jumbled mess that her thoughts had become; _Severus... _It was something she could hold on to when everything else— herself especially— was falling apart. Her memories no longer made sense; she couldn't decide who she was; her very identity was in flux... But the fact that she wanted Severus back was steadier than anything else — an anchor in the turbulent storm.

After some time, Remus joined her in the living room with two steaming cups of sweet, spiced tea. He watched Hermione stare at her cup as he set it on the low table across from her, studying her long-lost face as he leaned forward in his seat. It had been so long since he'd seen her last — she had certainly grown up handsomely.

"Would you like any milk with yours?" he asked in a gentle tone, his brows furrowing as she frowned in confusion at the innocuous question.

_Do I want milk? _she wondered half-heartedly; she wasn't sure whether she did, or not... Her lip quivered unexpectedly as she shrugged, apparently at a loss for words.

Remus looked on in rising concern as she struggled with the decision, unable to comprehend why she was so distraught over it. "Never mind," he tried helpfully; "it's just as good either way, I promise..."

With a shuddering sigh, Hermione slumped back against her seat and turned to the fire again, staring at the flames with a lost expression as her tea continued to steam fragrantly, its cheery scent at odds with the dour atmosphere. Remus pulled at his mustache with consternation as he considered what to do about the strange girl. For now, he thought it best that the fewer people who knew she had been found, the better; it would be precipitous to alert the entire Order, at least until they had a better understanding of what this meant for everyone in the larger scheme. For now, Death Eaters were still scattered about in search, which was a convenient distraction. Though there was a chance that Snape might inform his master that she had been reclaimed by the Order, Remus suspected there was a slightly greater chance that Snape would opt to remain quiet about this turn of events, if only to spare himself from the punishment he'd surely receive for allowing her to slip through his fingers. If this were the case, the Order could use the secret to their advantage, allowing Voldemort to assume she was still at large, thus wasting more resources in hunting her. Furthermore, it wouldn't do to have it get out that she was being kept at an Order safe house, lest their safe houses became even greater targets. For these reasons he was certain that secrecy was the best course of action. Bill and Fleur would be allowed to know, because he needed them to look after her while other plans were set in motion (they still had no clue where Harry and Ron were hiding). He debated letting Molly in on the secret, wondering if Hermione would benefit from the matriarch's care. Though Fleur was a decent enough girl, he doubted whether she possessed the appropriate level of compassion or the skill set for tending to a traumatized female... she certainly didn't get on too well with the other women in the group...

He thought briefly of his own wife — she'd want to know what had happened; whether he'd caught up with Snape, as had been his original mission once they'd gotten wind of the alert in Australia. _Should he tell her about Hermione? _Though he trusted her with his life, he wasn't certain that it would be a good idea to entrust her with a secret of this magnitude, given her tendency to over-confide in others. It would be just like her to let something slip. She probably wasn't the best choice as a source of comfort, either, as her pregnancy was making her rather emotionally unstable. Besides — she and Hermione hadn't known each other very well prior to her capture. It was probably better to enlist the help of someone more familiar to her.

Summoning his Patronus, Remus sent a brief message to his wife informing her that he was alright and that he'd be returning to her as soon as possible. He hoped that Bill and Fleur weren't planning to stay overnight at The Burrow; surely they'd be home in a couple hours or so.

"I think it's best that the fewer people who know where you are right now, the better," Remus started explaining, "but perhaps you'd like for me to ask Molly to check in on you?"

Remus watched Hermione's eyes flash strangely as she continued to stare at the flames in silence, apparently unable to answer his question. _Molly..._ she thought, struggling to find purchase as her scattered mind tossed the name around, _Molly Weasley...? _

With a sudden jolt, Hermione seemed to come to her senses briefly as she looked toward Remus with frantic eyes. "Don't bring Molly here," she said with unsteady resolution, surprising Remus as he glimpsed a flicker of pain cross her features. A moment later she grimaced as another electric jolt shot through her brain, shaking her head jerkily as she attempted to recover from the assault.

"Hermione? What's the matter?" Remus asked, reaching out in a comforting gesture, only for her to shrink away from him skittishly.

"Don't call me that," she cried weakly, her eyes closed tightly as she squeezed her head in her hands.

"...What should I call you, then?" Remus asked in confusion, unsure how to handle the situation.

"I don't know," she whispered back, shaking her head miserably as she moaned, "_I don't know._"

Remus let out a stunned breath of air as he straightened up in his seat, feeling quite helpless in the face of her turmoil. _What was wrong with her? _— He'd never seen an Obliviation do anything like this before.

"Was it Snape?" He asked carefully, "Did he do this to you?"

That got her attention, as she looked up at him with surprising ferocity, scanning his own face rapidly as she considered his question.

"Severus?" she asked in a low voice that didn't sound quite like her own.

Remus narrowed his eyes as he nodded, trying to figure out her unusual reaction. After she was quiet for a long beat, he felt compelled to add, "You don't have to talk about it now if it upsets you."

"I want to see him," she stated in a low, no-nonsense tone.

Remus sat back with a sigh, looking at her strangely as he quietly replied, "I'm afraid that's not possible." Hermione looked less than satisfied with his response.

"Why would you want to see him again?" Remus asked cautiously, hoping he wasn't treading on dangerous territory.

Hermione paused before answering, her voice breaking a little, "I need him."

Remus stared back at her for a long beat as he tried to understand her meaning. _It seems the old git really did a number on her..._

"He's not who you think he is, Hermione," he started slowly, ignoring her slight wince at the sound of her name. "Severus isn't one of us any more. Perhaps he never was."

"Then I'm not one of you, either," she replied flatly. "Bring me back to him. I don't want to be here."

"Hermione," Remus started, looking a little hurt, "you're clearly confused... Don't you know what's happened? What's happening even as we speak? You're needed here. You need us as much as we need you." Thinking for a moment as Hermione scowled, he continued, "I don't suppose Severus mentioned the new prophecy to you..."

"_The Virgin Whore,_" she replied unthinkingly, blinking as she surprised herself with her own answer. Quickly recovering, she muttered, "Yes, I've heard it."

Cocking his head in surprise, Remus thought about what this might mean. _When had Severus bothered to tell her that? ...why would he?... _Something wasn't adding up.

"When did he find you?" he asked suspiciously, wondering if he'd been mistaken when he'd assumed that Snape had set off the alarm when he made a move to take her.

Hermione seemed to debate answering, but finally murmured, "I don't know. Maybe a week ago, maybe two."

Incredulous, Remus pressed, "Are you sure of that? It wasn't the night before last?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes as she wondered what he was getting at. "No," she answered slowly, "It was definitely before that."

Running his hand down his face as he absorbed the shocking news, Remus' mind darted frantically as he tried to imagine what Severus had been doing with her for over a week. _Perhaps this explains her reliance on him,_ he mused; he'd heard about cases of Stockholm Syndrome, and wondered if this might be similar. It was becoming easier to understand why she might have developed a misguided sense of attachment to her captor. Recalling how she'd acted when he'd taken her out of there, Remus was becoming more convinced that his unnerving theory had merit.

"Are you sure you're not hurt?" he asked seriously, realizing that he hadn't checked after her condition yet. He had definitely smelled blood on her, though her hormones indicated that she wasn't menstruating.

Hermione's face soured at the question, and she shook her head in reply. Remus looked skeptical.

"I can ask someone else to check on you, if you don't want Molly," he offered.

"I'm fine," she muttered uncomfortably.

"You didn't look fine when I found you," he insisted, trying to be as sensitive as possible. "In fact you looked quite distraught."

"It wasn't what it looked like," she snapped, "—Severus tried to tell you as much, but you wouldn't listen."

"Forgive me if I have difficulty trusting anything that comes out of that man's mouth," Remus muttered bitterly. "I didn't believe him then, and I don't believe it now. He was hurting you, that was clear enough."

"He wasn't!" Hermione insisted forcefully, her eyes brimming with tears, "He was trying to help! You fucked everything up, and you don't even realize it!"

Taken aback by her vehemence, Remus spread his hands in a gesture of supplication. "I only know what I saw, Hermione," he tried.

"No, you don't! You only saw what you expected to see! You have no idea what really happened!" She cried, her tears falling quickly now.

"Then tell me, Hermione," Remus tried, leaning forward as he produced a handkerchief, holding it out toward her, "I'm listening now..."

"Oh, what's the use?" she sobbed, taking the handkerchief and swiping roughly at her eyes, "You're already convinced that you know everything."

"That's not true," he offered gently, "I'll admit that I can be too hasty at times, but I do try to keep an open mind." When she only sobbed in a shaky breath, he continued, "I just want to help you, sweetheart. I'm sorry if I'm upsetting you. We can talk about it another time."

_Sweetheart, _she thought, repeating the word in her head as her thoughts drifted off into several directions at once. _He called me 'sweetheart'..._

Wiping at her face more carefully now, Hermione sat back, allowing herself to relax as her tears subsided. At length she took up her cup of tea, sipping slowly as Remus offered her a small smile before raising his own cup again.

"This could use a bit of milk, actually" she suggested in a strange voice, causing Remus to lift his eyebrows at the unexpected remark.

"No problem," he replied, smiling reassuringly before summoning a milk bottle with his wand. Pouring out a fair dash, he sent the bottle back to the icebox as Hermione watched the milk coalesce, taking another sip with satisfaction.

Remus noticed the subtle change in her as Hermione sipped at her tea in silence, occasionally lifting her eyes to study her companion guardedly. She seemed more subdued than before; he hoped that the tea was of some small comfort to her.

"Are you hungry?" he asked after a time, setting his empty cup aside. "I'm not the best cook, but I can probably sort out some biscuits or something..."

Hermione shook her head, staring back at Remus in that slightly disconcerting way of hers as she licked a drop of tea from her lip, setting the rest of it aside.

Remus watched as her face began to change, her eyes catching his gaze and holding it as her demeanor began to slip from its former nonchalance into an unexpected sadness. She looked as if she were about to start crying.

"What's the matter?" Remus asked in concern, wondering if he'd done something to upset her.

Hermione shook her head miserably, taking a shaky breath to compose herself before answering, "Everything's so strange... I feel like I'm trapped in some kind of never-ending nightmare — but a beautiful one, some of the time... I don't know what to believe anymore. I just feel so... so..."

As she broke off, Remus rose from his chair and moved beside her, crouching down between her and the fire as he patted her shoulder in comfort. "There, there..." he murmured softly, "I'm sorry things have been so difficult for you. You don't need to worry now; you're among friends again."

"Remus..." she whispered uncertainly, a single tear falling down her cheek, "my head... it's all such a mess... it _hurts_..."

"Why, Hermione?" Remus asked, his hand bracing her forearm, "Did something happen?"

"Oh, please... it's such a long story," she sighed, stifling a sob as she inhaled, "I just need..."

"What? What do you need?" Remus asked, wanting to help however he could.

"Can you just... hold me? For a little while?" Hermione asked in a small voice, looking unsure of herself, "...I just need to be held."

Remus hadn't expected that, but was willing enough to oblige despite the potential awkwardness. "Of course," he smiled, standing with a little embarrassment as he offered a hand to Hermione, helping her out of the chair before sitting down in it and letting her move gingerly into his lap. Hermione let out a shaky sigh as she tucked her head under Remus' chin, his arms wrapping around her warmly as she pulled her legs in close, burrowing into his embrace. Her breathing normalized as they remained that way for awhile, his hand rubbing soothing circles into her back through the double layer of her coat and jacket as she shifted now and then, squirming into more comfortable positions.

"I really am sorry if I upset you earlier, Hermione," Remus quietly assured her, "I should have been more considerate."

Squirming again, she replied in an odd voice, "Call me Nina."

As Remus raised his eyebrows at the strange request, trying to fathom its significance, the girl in his arms shifted more abruptly, reaching for his forearm to steady herself as she twisted around, startling him as he felt an unexpected tug as she quickly drew his wand out from its sheath. Before he realized what was happening, she had jumped out of his lap, pointing his own wand at him and staring him down ferociously.

"Hermione!" he exclaimed, looking back at her with shock and hurt, "What do you think you're doing?"

"Take me back to Severus!" she shouted, "No fast moves, or you'll regret it!"

"I can't do that," Remus replied with exaggerated patience, "—even if I wanted to, I can't... I used a Portkey to get back here. It was a one-way deal."

"I don't believe you!" she accused, "How did you get to Australia in the first place?"

Remus gave her a sideways look before answering, "Another Portkey. One way in, one way out."

"Then figure out another way!" she insisted.

"Hermione..."

"I told you to call me Nina," she warned him lowly, her grip on his wand tensing.

Remus looked conflicted before carefully correcting himself, "Alright... Nina... you need to calm down. This isn't helping anything. Severus is gone, now; you have to accept that. You have us, now, and we want to help you..."

"You can't!" she shouted, "Nobody but Severus can help me!"

"I'm sure that's not true..."

"It is! He's the only one! You fucked everything up! I _hate _you!"

"You don't mean that."

"Yes, I do! We were happy there, and you _ruined _it!" She insisted, her tears back in full force.

"_Expelliarmus!_" A new voice suddenly shouted, forcing the wand out of Hermione's grip as it flew toward an alarmed Bill Weasley, who caught it in his wand hand as he balanced a heavily-loaded hamper on his hip with the other.

"What ees going on in here?" Fleur demanded, her arms laden with parcels as she stood behind her husband, taking in the strange scene. "'Ermione? Ees that you?" she added in surprise, her eyes widening as she recognized the oddly-dressed, defensively stanced figure as the missing girl, herself.

"Hermione!" Bill exclaimed, apparently not recognizing her until that moment. "Remus, you found her!"

"Yes, she's back — though I think she'd prefer it if you called her 'Nina,'" Remus replied with dry humor, shaking his head as he moved toward Bill to take back his wand.

"I don't understand..." Bill said quietly, frowning as he took in the girl's state of dress as she crossed her arms sullenly, pouting as she reigned in another fit of tears.

"That makes two of us," Remus muttered with a long-suffering sigh.

Setting down her parcels, Fleur hesitatingly made her way over to the distraught girl, glancing briefly back at her husband and Remus before putting her arms lightly around the girl's shoulders, ushering her toward the stairwell.

"Let's get you some better clothes, oui?" Fleur suggested, "And perhaps a bath? You look _absolument_ _terrible_!"

Hermione reluctantly allowed the pretty, French quarter-Veela to direct her up the staircase, trembling with a nearly incapacitating mix of emotions as she gave up the fight as a lost cause. Severus was far away from her now, and she wasn't going to get him back by making empty threats and grand gestures. Perhaps later, when she had more time to think, she could come up with a real plan. For now, she just wanted to wallow in self-pity as her jumbled thoughts threatened to consume her, disparate memories and mental constructs warring against each other in a relentless struggle. _If only she had Severus to hold on to..._

...

Meanwhile, far across multiple oceans and sweeping expanses of land, Severus was sorely regaining consciousness. He'd been hit with a particularly forceful stunner, the impact of which left him feeling like he'd just run a marathon. His muscles ached and his head was pounding. "_Lupin, you son of a bitch,_" he cursed, clutching his stomach as he leaned forward, belatedly summoning his wand. He had been left naked and unconscious on the sofa, and now Hermione had been taken to who-knows-where by the people whose trust in him had been strategically forfeited. ..._Why was he still alive?_

By all accounts, Lupin _should_ have killed him while he had the chance. Though the werewolf wasn't particularly brutal, he was fiercely loyal, and Severus' apparent betrayal should have been motivation enough to eliminate him. In truth, he hadn't expected to live very long after saving Hermione; he never intended to hand her over to Voldemort, of course, though he'd been forced to make a very dangerous, irrevocable promise in order to be granted leave to search for her. Returning empty-handed would mean certain death.

He only hoped that Lupin would know better than to let word out that she had been recovered. As long as the Death Eaters thought she was still at large, the Order maintained a certain advantage. Though Potter and Weasley were still prime targets as well, they knew how to stay hidden. As far as anyone else was aware, Hermione had been made perfectly vulnerable— Obliviated, cast out and wandless— though her whereabouts were the cause of endless speculation. The known slave traders had long since been brutally interrogated, their minds thoroughly searched by relentless Legilimancers— Severus included— as the two opposing factions rushed to reclaim the missing girl. Despite these efforts, no one could figure out what had happened to her. At some point the trail went cold, leading some to speculate that she must be dead. Severus had never been convinced of this, insisting that the link— though significantly dulled— remained unbroken, indicating that she was still alive. Using Voldemort's paranoia over the prophecy to his advantage, he managed to convince the Dark Lord that the girl was still a serious threat to him, suggesting that he alone possessed the means of tracking her. Convincing Dumbledore of the same had not been quite as easy.

And now, after his tireless search had finally brought him to her, she was gone again, taken away before he'd managed to complete the task he'd set for himself. Finding her was only half the battle: _helping_ her had become his sole priority. He had every intention of fixing the damage he'd done, as best as he could, before returning her to her rightful place. _Would he have been able to return her, though? _...He wondered how he could have given her up, after all that had transpired. He wouldn't have. Couldn't have. The overwhelming heartache that was now creeping up on him as his initial shock subsided was proof enough of how hard he had fallen. There would be no recovery.

He knew what this was; though the pain of losing the one whom his heart had chosen was not unfamiliar to him, this was far worse than what had come before. Hermione had _chosen him back_ — he knew this now, understanding how the chastity spell had come undone. Even if she didn't realize it herself just yet, Hermione had chosen him over a year and a half ago when she'd invoked his name in a time of crisis. She couldn't have done as much simply out of sheer desperation, as he had once suspected. There had to have been an element of pure love, however new and unformed it had been at the time. This realization was crushing to behold in the wake of her departure; he wasn't sure he could handle it. His head swam as he struggled to find purchase on something—anything logical—but kept grasping at the splinters of his own despair. It was too much. His Occlumency shields failed him as he succumbed to an imposing morass of misery, allowing his own darkness to flow through him without restraint. The warm morning air in the empty space turned frigid as Dark magic seeped from him, seeking an outlet. He remembered holding her as she cried in pain — how helpless he had been. The Christmas lights all blinked out at once.

'_Not this, not this again...' _he lamented, fearing what was happening to him. His heart had been broken before; it was not a pretty thing. Heartbreak is to Severus Snape much more than it is to the average man. It consumes with power of the darkest intent; a force of unimaginable annihilation; a dying sun contriving to tear the universe apart. If left unchecked, it would surely destroy him along with anyone unfortunate enough to cross his path. Though his first impulse was to go after her— despite the futility of such an endeavor at this stage— he still had enough presence of mind to keep still. Better that he wait it out while in this lonely place, to avoid any casualties. _This will pass. Be calm._

He could actually feel her missing presence, now that she was gone. That's what severance was to a man like him: it aches. It is a wound that heals itself for a moment and then separates, slowly, tearing itself open to weep until exhaustion before beginning the whole agonizing process over again. Time wouldn't heal it; slow it down, perhaps, but never heal it. He would always be broken so long as she was severed from him — not that he had ever been whole. He'd thought that he had come close to a kind of wholeness when he'd been inside of her earlier that morning, but now the memory of that singular experience only added to his suffering, casting him deeper into despair. He tormented himself with the memory of her slow kiss, still painfully fresh in his mind. He replayed the look on her face as he'd touched her, recalling with perfect clarity the exact way her eyes had changed when her surprise gave way to pleasure. He moaned aloud, pressing the heels of his hand into his eye sockets as phosphenes exploded in his field of perception, doing nothing to blot out the visions that haunted him. _Her swollen lips; her flushed cheeks; her scattered freckles; her hair in her eyes; her taste on his tongue; the warmth of her skin; the sound of her labored breaths; taking her, filling her, having her, all of her..._

"_Fuck, Hermione,_" he groaned, tearing at his hair as sensory impressions and detailed images of her assaulted his thoughts. He needed a distraction; anything to deflect the impact of that too-perfect memory as it railed against his shattered soul. Casting his eyes about the room in desperation, his attention landed on the pile of records left on the floor. With great heaviness he pulled his naked body off the sofa, kneeling beside the heap as he began tossing them aside irreverently as he searched for something suitable. He finally settled on an album by The Rolling Stones, who he'd at least heard of. The title, _Let It Bleed, _seemed apt enough.

He barely stopped short of smashing the record that was still on the spindle as he tore it off, before remembering that it contained a track Nina had described as "a favorite" — perhaps later, when feeling more morose, he'd want to listen to it again. Now, he needed something else.

After positioning the needle to play from the first track, Severus turned up the volume to an obscene level as he began pacing in front of the speakers, Dark magic crackling around him as the opening of _Gimme Shelter_ blared out loud and clear. Had the turntable been running on electricity, it surely would have exploded by now; fortunately Severus' earlier _Animare _still held, perhaps amplified further by his unbridled magical energy. Whatever the case, Mick Jagger was unaffected.

_Oh, a storm is threat'ning_

_My very life today_

_If I don't get some shelter_

_Oh yeah, I'm gonna fade away_

_War, children! It's just a shot away_

_It's just a shot away..._

...

* * *

><p>"Remus has left?" Fleur asked her husband as she descended the stairs, carrying Remus' bedraggled overcoat.<p>

"Yes. He has a family now," Bill said with a small smile, "I told him we could handle Hermione on our own, poor girl. She's been through quite an ordeal."

"What happened to her?" Fleur asked in a whisper, moving toward the fire to sit beside her husband. "Did Remus tell you?"

"He doesn't know much, but he did say that Snape had her when he arrived. Apparently they were in a compromising position when he burst in on them," he added suggestively, causing Fleur to gasp. "It sounds like a very bad business. We can only imagine what he'd been getting up to with her. He says that Snape actually had her with him for well over a week before Remus caught up with him..."

"_Ah non!_"

"...and that Hermione has become morbidly attached to him. That's why she attacked Remus when we came in; she was trying to get back to Snape."

"_C'est incroyable!_"

"Tell me about it. After all she's already been through! Who knows how this happened."

"How this happened?" Fleur interjected, "Isn't it obvious? Snape is a villain; we already knew that."

"I know that he's a murderer," Bill admitted with a conflicted expression, "but I never would have imagined that he was some kind of... _rapist..._" he whispered distastefully. Looking to his wife, he recognized her thoughtful expression. "What is it?" he asked quietly, "Do you know something?"

"There was blood," she told him in an undertone, looking quite serious. "Blood. On her leg."

Bill looked surprised, "Is she hurt?"

"I don't think so... but there was _something else_ on her leg, _aussi_."

The pair exchanged a look, by which Fleur was able to communicate her meaning to her knowing husband. He looked back at her with troubled eyes, thoroughly scandalized.

"Do you think we should tell Remus?"

"This is a lady's business," Fleur said quietly, shaking her head. "It would not be polite to tell him. I'm only telling you because you are my husband." When Bill looked slightly skeptical, she continued, "Besides: Remus must have known." When her husband looked at her inquiringly, she motioned to her nose, suggesting that Remus must have picked up the scent of the evidence she had seen with her own eyes. Bill frowned a little at the implication; though he certainly didn't envy Remus' condition, it bothered him a bit that he hadn't contracted the same level of extra-sensory perception after he'd been attacked by a werewolf. His fondness for ultra-rare steaks was of no consolation.

"Perhaps you're right," Bill nodded. "Remus must know already. He mentioned something about letting my Mum in on the secret, but said he wants to keep this as contained as possible. We're not to let anyone know that Hermione's been found."

Fleur nodded in understanding, secretly hoping that her mother-in-law wouldn't be called over to fuss around her home anytime soon. She was still worn-out from their last visit — Celestina Warbeck ditties would be stuck in her head for days. _Surely she could look after Hermione, herself?_

...

As Hermione soaked in the steaming bathwater, she ran her hand across the fogged-over windowpane beside the tub, trying to make out the churning sea in the black night. Rain pattered against the leaded glass of the little window, further obscuring her vision as water trailed down the surface in blurry rivulets. With a sigh she sunk deeper into the warm water, allowing the fine fragrance of French soaps to soothe her senses.

Despite the fact that she longed to be elsewhere, she couldn't deny that Shell Cottage smelled pretty marvelous. If she could bottle it as a perfume, Fleur's fresh and understated soaps would comprise the top notes, as these were immediately apparent upon entering the place. The heart notes would be made up of beeswax candles and wood fires, while the deeper base notes would be entirely composed of wet sand and the scent of ocean air. It was almost perfect, but was missing one key ingredient: _Severus. _She had still been able to smell his unique aroma on her hair when she'd first entered the tub, but now, as she pressed her damp, saltwater and lavender-scented locks to her nose, she could hardly make it out anymore. Tears stung her eyes with the realization that, even now, he was slipping further away from her.

The rain pelted more forcefully against the glass as a gust of wind drove against the cottage, howling as it died away. As Hermione listened to its low moan, she thought she heard a strange kind of melody carried along with it... Closing her eyes as she listened more closely, she realized that the quiet song was echoing across her own mind — she recognized something familiar in its refrain, like an old radio tune breaking intermittently across the muffling static. Sinking down under the bathwater to drown out the outside noises, she could hear it a little more clearly behind the dull ocean roar as she strained to catch its fleeting melody. It sounded almost like... _The Rolling Stones?..._

_..._

* * *

><p>Percy Weasley was still in the office that evening, long after most of his associates had gone home to their families. Many had taken the entire day off. He had been expected to go home yesterday, after reporting the Death Eater alert. As it was, he couldn't go back to his estranged family — not after everything that had transpired. Though he was regretting his decisions now, he felt that it was too late for any kind of reconciliation — not without keeping any of what little pride he had left. Something was very wrong at the Ministry, but there was nothing to be done about it now. He was effectively trapped.<p>

He didn't want to go back to his crummy little flat tonight, either; he knew that he'd only fall prey to an all-encompassing loneliness as he heard the sounds of others' celebrations through the thin walls, or smelled the wafting aromas of Christmas feasts that he couldn't share in. No point in making himself any more miserable than he already was. Better to stay at his desk, where he could rest assured that no merriment would infringe on his self-inflicted solitude.

As he set about transfiguring his neighbor's desk chair into a cot, he heard the distinctive _ping_ of an incoming missive as the International Affairs box flared green. Dashing over to it eagerly, he unfurled the new scroll, hoping for something interesting to distract himself. When he saw what it contained, however, he turned a bit green, himself.

Standard protocol in these cases required that he personally inform the Minister of this development immediately. He only hoped that Thicknesse would have gone home by now, so that his only recourse would be to send an owl. After all: he couldn't show up on the Minister's doorstep on Christmas eve proper, _could he? _Surely an owl would be more appropriate?

Mentally crossing his fingers, Percy took off somberly down the empty corridor, heading for the lift. It was unnerving how empty the place was, now; he couldn't imagine that anything would compel the Minister to remain in his office at such a time. Surely he'd find the place deserted, fully warded against intrusion. He had no reason to be so nervous. ..._Why was he sweating?_

As he arrived in the Minister's grand entryway, he was relieved to find that there was no secretary posted outside the office door. Surely this was a good sign. With a bit more spring in his step, he approached the office door, rapping lightly, though he felt a little foolish doing so. As he turned to leave with a nervous smile of satisfaction, his stomach sank with dread as he heard the low reply from behind the door: "_Enter._"

Percy could hardly believe it when he saw Thicknesse sitting placidly behind his desk as he shuffled inside; the man looked as if he had been waiting there, patiently — for what, he could only guess. _What was he still doing here? Didn't he ever go home?_

"Mr Weasley," the Minister intoned, looking unsurprised to see him, "Still at it, are you? I thought you would have taken the day off? Surely you're entitled to some private time."

Clearing his throat, Percy answered, "Yes, Your Excellency; I just had a bit of catching up to do. It's no trouble."

"Ah. Then I take it you're here on Ministry business?" The eerie man inquired.

"Of course, sir," Percy replied, "You see — there's been another report from Australia; it's only just arrived..."

"A report of further Death Eater activity?" Thicknesse predicted with apparent disinterest.

"Yes, sir — but it's not just _one _this time... they've reported _several _alerts as having been set off in the last half hour... there's over a dozen of them, sir! They're popping up all over the country, in scattered points that approximately surround the exact spot where the previous Death Eater alert originated from..."

"The situation is being taken care of, Mr Weasley," the Minister quietly assured him.

Not certain that he understood him, Percy looked at the man in confusion; '_how could he have already heard about this, when I've only just intercepted it, myself?'_ — "Sir?"

"You may leave," the Minister told him dismissively, his cold eyes not inviting any further discussion.

"Of course, sir," Percy murmured apologetically, bowing low before leaving the room, feeling distinctly unsettled as he made his way back down to his floor. That creepy new Minister was clearly up to something. Whatever was going on, he wished that he hadn't gotten himself involved. Somehow he knew that this wish was utterly futile. He already knew too much.

.

..

...

_War, children! It's just a shot a way_

_It's just a shot away..._

...

..

.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN**: How do you think HermioNina is going to get along with Fleur? More soon..._


	40. Chapter 40

Chapter 40

.

Lucius was getting too old for this. As he sent another searing stream of Dark magic through his Mark, he gritted his teeth as he felt the answering call of twelve fellow Death Eaters who were within summoning range. Receiving their replies was excruciating to endure, the pain nearly causing him to lose his grip on his broom as he suffered through them. As he regained his composure, Lucius wondered if this was what Voldemort experienced whenever he summoned his followers. _Even if he did, the pervert probably liked it. _Though Lucius himself had a rather unnaturally high tolerance for pain (and certainly enjoyed a bit of rough play in the bedroom, perhaps more so than the average Dark wizard) _this_ was not remotely pleasurable. This was outrageous.

It was even more infuriating that his comrades— all underlings— were only experiencing a small fraction of such torment whenever he sent out the Dark pulse. He knew, _just knew_, that somewhere out there, Dolohov was whining like a little bitch as he joined in the call-and-response, probably cursing Lucius as he rubbed his forearm. He had better hope that Lucius not catch him reacting in such a manner— '_else I'll show him what pain really is...'_

All this for a single Mudblood. _What a farce! — _Lucius had dealt with the girl before, and had walked away less than impressed. There was no way such a pathetic creature could be a true threat to the Dark Lord, himself. It was incomprehensible how worked up intelligent people could get over a dubious prophetic claim — _one from that insufferable Trelawney woman, no less!_ Not for the first time, he entertained serious doubts about his master's sanity.

He just hoped they weren't following another cold trail. They'd been attempting to monitor Snape's activities for months as the Dark wizard flitted about the globe, but, from time to time, they would lose track of him. He had always been a stealthy bugger. Voldemort had only allowed the man to undertake such a mission because he believed that Snape might truly be able to locate the long-lost girl — he did not, however, believe that Snape would hand her directly over to him upon finding her. He knew his servant well enough to know when the man was obsessed with a woman (he'd seen it once before with the Potter wench, and had taken measures to correct that misplaced passion before it degenerated his servant's mind); there was no other legitimate reason why he'd be so committed to finding her. Snape had never been particularly passionate about any Dark business before, always merely going through the motions, indifferently, as if he were somehow above it all. It did not require masterful Legilimency to see that this was different. He was a man possessed. Voldemort had decided to use such a failing to his advantage rather than attempt to correct it, trusting that Snape's fanaticism would prove to be productive. No one else had been able to locate the Mudblood; hopefully Snape would succeed where the others had failed.

This was where Lucius came in: track Snape, and find the girl. Then, somewhere between Cambodia and Bangladesh, Snape had apparently dropped off the face of the planet. Of course, this was back in June, after he'd stopped returning to the U.K. — no one had expected him to come back then, anyhow. It was many months before the report from Australia came through; for awhile they'd assumed he'd gotten himself killed. When they'd gotten wind of the unauthorized Death Eater activity in Munana Moura— the most populated magical community in Australia's Northern Territory— they finally knew where Snape had disappeared to. Assuming he was still in the country, tracking him down now was as simple as branching out from the area of this latest activity, using their linked Marks to detect one another as they swept over the land, strategically moving outward while maintaining enough of a distance from one another to still be within summoning range. If one or more of them moved within close enough distance to their target, Lucius would be able to detect a thirteenth response to his Dark call. Then it was only a matter of identifying the proximal location of the thirteenth response, and moving in on it. Since Snape wasn't part of Lucius' magically-linked team, he shouldn't be able to detect the Dark spell at work as it sought his Mark. If all went according to plan, they'd be on him before he knew what was happening. If he had the girl, Lucius had orders to neutralize Snape by whatever means necessary in order to get her from him. If not, then he would be ordered to give over a full report on his progress to Lucius, to be culled from his own memories. Voldemort was getting impatient.

Even as he sped over the country on his broomstick— the whipping wind attempting to loosen his platinum locks from their secure plait— the morning was becoming unbearably warm. Lucius wasn't built for warm weather; his people were of Nordic descent, their bodies fit for bracing climates. He hadn't minded as much when he'd trailed Severus around Western Russia last March, but this was Australia in December. He had his limits, and this was definitely pushing them. Bracing himself as he sent another Dark pulse through the link, he focused on the incoming responses. _One, two, three... seven, eight, nine... ten... eleven... ... ...eleven? What happened to twelve? — _This wasn't right; there should be at least twelve, if not thirteen responses. Someone must have drifted out of range.

Cursing his team, Lucius wondered which idiot had broken out of formation. Now he had the unpleasant task of figuring out where the break occurred, which meant sending more frequent pulses through the Marks until he could identify which part of the chain was weakest. He really was getting too old for this.

Lucius veered downward as he moved to land on solid ground, not wanting to have to concentrate on flying and tracking at the same time. As he kicked up a cloud of dust, the blonde wizard came to an abrupt halt as his feet hit the floor, not bothering to make a graceful landing when there was no one around to appreciate it. Snarling as he twisted his forearm into view, he pressed the tip of his wand to the writhing blackness there, closing his eyes as the call reverberated, sending the requested information back one aching jolt at a time. _One, two, three... all still within solid range... six, seven... hmm... there was a dip in power between the seventh and eighth response... nine was significantly delayed... nine... nine... nine? What happened to ten and eleven, now? Oh, for fuck's sake._

Lucius was irate. _Who was in position eight? _He suspected that whoever held this position had strayed too far, throwing the tail end out of alignment. Nine through twelve should have known better than to follow suit as eight veered off course, but apparently he was working with a bunch of morons. When he found out who had fucked up the chain, there would be Hell to pay. For now, he had to get his team back in formation. Focusing on position nine— the last member at that end still within range— he Apparated to their location. What he found upon arriving did not make any sense.

There was Mulciber— number nine— or what was left of him, anyhow. He had been brutally disemboweled, his viscera scattered in the dirt in steaming, bloody heaps as the freshly-struck curse sizzled out. Lucius scanned the area on high alert, frantically seeking the perpetrator. _Who could have done this? _Though the Australian Ministry may have sent out authorities to investigate his team's arrival, they were hardly likely to engage in open warfare, and even less likely to abandon the scene of the crime, leaving a body to fry in the sun. The curse that had done this had been particularly nasty; it was not the work of an amateur sleuth. Something was terribly wrong.

Lucius quickly sent another pulse through the Mark, ignoring the pain as his adrenaline kicked up. _One, two... five, six, seven... ...seven... shit. _Now eight was missing. Not wasting another second to dwell on the cause, Lucius quickly Apparated to number seven, arriving just in time to witness the most absurdly shocking scene he'd ever encountered as he watched a completely naked, blood-soaked Severus Snape efficiently decapitate Macnair with a brutal slash of his wand, the residual curse fire flaring outward in an impressive stream of power before it was snuffed out. As the unhinged wizard's head spun sharply toward Lucius at the sound of his arrival, the astonished Death Eater had only a moment to meet his black gaze before promptly Disapparating for his life.

...

"'Ermione, I brought some more clothes for you," Fleur called softly outside the guest bedroom, knocking politely before slipping inside. She found the girl sitting at the window, staring out into the dark night. Hermione was wearing the deep navy silk chemise that Fleur had lent her, which— slightly to the quarter-Veela's dismay— looked remarkably good on her... The color had always seemed a bit too bold against Fleur's delicate complexion, as she preferred silks in shades of softer blues, ivory, or celadon green. She didn't explicitly mean to choose something unflattering for the surprising house guest, but she was still a little wary of the result, all the same. Heaven forbid anyone presume to outshine her in her own home...

"Do you not like that color?" Fleur asked helpfully, "I have many other sets you might prefer — perhaps something in a light green? I have a very pretty mint green chemise you might like..."

"This one's fine," Hermione sighed, "it really doesn't matter."

Pursing her lips as she dropped the subject, Fleur set about hanging up the garments she'd brought along, spelling them into the empty wardrobe. As she caught sight of a rather lovely, deep burgundy robe that she'd included in the pile, she surreptitiously sent it back to her own bedroom after considering it for a moment (_surely Hermione didn't need to look quite so glamorous..._).

It wasn't as if Fleur was insecure or anything — by nature, her self-confidence was off the charts. She simply knew her own limits, and didn't want to start any unnecessary kind of rivalry with this particular female. Though she would undoubtedly come out on top every time, such tension was not conducive to a happy home environment, and the proper maintenance of her home was paramount to her. No need to take any unnecessary risks. So long as she kept Hermione looking well but not too well, she was sure they'd get along splendidly. The house was just not big enough for two unearthly beauties; especially when at least one of them also possessed a rather forceful personality. Not that Hermione's beauty could be properly classified as _unearthly_— she had grown up nicely, no doubt, but hers was a quaint, natural sort of appeal. Nothing to get too worked up over, and certainly not enough to catch Fleur's husband's attention; Bill was a ladies' man, to be sure— she'd known that long before she'd agreed to marry him— but he was also no fool. ..._Why, then, was she even considering such a notion?_

"It's getting late," Fleur noted, "Bill and I will go to bed, soon... won't you try to sleep a little, too?"

"I've only been awake for a few hours now," Hermione explained, "—it was early in the morning when Remus found me. Then it was nighttime when we arrived here — it's all very disorienting. Anyways, I'm definitely not tired," Hermione sighed.

"I see," Fleur replied gently. "I think I can stay up for another couple of hours or so, if you'd like. Perhaps you want some company?"

Hermione just leaned her head against the window, casting her eyes down as she quietly answered, "Actually, I think I'd prefer to be alone, if you don't mind."

Fleur looked at the girl consideringly for a moment before acquiescing, returning to the doorway. "Please let me know if you need anything else, 'Ermione; we do want to help you, if you'll let us."

"I know. Thank you," Hermione replied, not looking up from her dreary window. As Fleur quietly shut the door behind her, Hermione rolled her forehead against the glass as she turned back to the dark scenery, preparing to sit out the remainder of the longest night of her life. In her mind's eye she pictured Severus rising out of the sea, his harsh figure wading toward the beach, drawn to the candlelight shining from her window. She resolved to keep one lit every night that she had to stay in this place. Maybe, if she wished for it hard enough, he _would_ crawl out of the ocean one night, determined to find her. Logically she knew that they were separated by much more than just the Celtic Sea, and that Severus probably had more efficient means of traveling than by swimming to her (if he could even figure out where she was, in the first place).

Still, the romantic notion was mildly comforting to consider, and so she replayed it again and again, trying to imagine exactly how he'd look with kelp tangled in his long black hair, all wet and dripping with brine. She imagined herself climbing out the window and running to him; imagined him catching her as she fell into his arms, falling down together onto the hard, wet sand at the shoreline; his impossibly warm, wet hand pushing up her silk chemise, hiking the lace hem up over her thighs, all the way up to her navel... Then she imagined him pulling her straps down and exposing her chest, rain pelting her skin as he grabbed at her with possessive hands before reaching down and tearing off her little matching knickers... Those very same knickers got wetter as she imagined him fucking her on the sand, fucking her hard in the wind and rain on that dark, lonely beach, making her scream; pounding her madly until she came; her uninhibited wailing swallowed by the wind while Bill and Fleur slept soundly in their beds. With a small noise of longing, Hermione shifted on her window seat, slowly flexing her hips as she stretched her muscles in a fruitless attempt to ease her tension. _Oh, how she wanted that man back..._

She had to believe that, wherever he was, he was trying to get back to her. She had to believe that he missed her as dearly as she missed him. She wasn't ready to believe in anything else.

...

The irony was too much. Severus had _invented_ the call-and-response tactic; _didn't Lucius realize what a poor judgement it was to use it against him? —_ Way back in the first war, Voldemort's team leaders had been complaining about difficulties communicating with their goons during search and destroy missions. At the time, former Death Eater lieutenant Sarrum Bane— a particularly nasty piece of work— was heading the raids on Muggleborn hideouts, ruthlessly slaughtering any innocents who happened to bear witness to his destruction. Bane was also in charge of hunting down defectors, which was how Severus came up with an ingenious ploy. Severus had personally developed the method of tracking Death Eater teams through the Marks, knowing that such a tactic would entail an excruciating reaction from whoever had the unfortunate task of using it (namely Bane), as well as a rather unpleasant trickle-down effect on those connected to the Dark spell. In this small way, Severus was able to do his part to bring down Bane, hoping that the painful side-effect would impair his concentration just enough to make him vulnerable to a double cross. Voldemort hadn't anticipated this vulnerability when he adopted the strategy, commending Snape for his efforts. It mattered little to him that his minions would have to suffer a bit in order to put it to action — in fact, Severus suspected that this minor detail made it all the more appealing to the sadist. As a result, Bane had been compromised, and had been taken down by Alastor Moody in an ambush that had been so cut-and-dried that it hardly did justice to the brute's legacy.

_And now Lucius had the audacity to use it against him! _— It might well have worked, too, had Severus not already been enmeshed in his own Darkness when the call had gone out. He probably wouldn't have even noticed it, since he hadn't been connected to the team; if anything he might have felt a dull throb — nothing that would necessarily alert him to an impending ambush. As it happened, he had been so completely inundated with Dark magic as a result of his heartache that he had felt each pulse like a tidal wave, reverberating against his Darkness as it swelled in answer to the distant call. Like sought like, and his Darkness wanted to play. He hadn't even thought to dress himself before Apparating to the nearest source of the pulse, immediately drawn to it. Travers had never even seen him coming. The unfortunate Death Eater had been torn right off his broom by a flying streak of black, his neck swiftly snapped in his assailant's bare hands. He was dead before he'd even hit the ground. From there, it was only a matter of following the pulse down the chain, link by link, killing thoughtlessly as he went. He'd wanted an outlet for his Darkness, and he had certainly found it (fortunately, he'd done so before it found him).

Sadly, though, Lucius had managed to signal the surviving team members in time to order their prompt retreat. Had it been possible, Severus would have followed after them. As it was, he would have needed a Portkey of his own to pull off such a stunt — and so he'd been left behind in the dirt, drenched in the blood of his victims as his Darkness slowly ebbed away, leaving him fairly exhausted and in need of a shower. It was almost enough to make him feel better for a little while.

* * *

><p>...<p>

* * *

><p>*<em>Munana Moura: (an invented place; the name comes from the Australian Aboriginal words for 'old' and 'camp,' though there's a good chance my usage is not syntactically sound).<em>


	41. Chapter 41

Chapter 41

.

Christmas morning at Shell Cottage had been a somber affair. Though Fleur had managed to coax Hermione out of her room, she couldn't get the girl to eat more than a bite of toast, despite the lavish spread she'd laid out on the dining table. It seemed she was even less inclined to eat than she was to talk, which was quite troubling given her tendency toward monosyllabic responses to their attempts to draw her into conversation.

Knowing some of what she'd gone through had been enough to keep Bill and Fleur from pushing too hard, but Fleur was still prone to take some offense to her guest's attitude. When Bill had attempted to make a well-meaning joke about Hermione's lack of 'Christmas spirit,' the girl had promptly retorted, "Why are you pretending like it matters to you? You don't even have a Christmas tree."

Fleur had only been too ready to jump into the same spiel she'd gotten into with her mother-in-law, explicating her decidedly pronounced opinion against the necessity of Christmas trees. This prompted her husband to try to intervene, lest that conversation escalate as quickly as it had back at The Burrow.

"Come on, dear; I'm sure Hermione wasn't trying to be critical."

"_Je m'en fous!_" his wife had protested, turning to back to Hermione, "You want a tree? Go take a walk."

Hermione had not hesitated to take her advice. She spent the remainder of the week familiarizing herself with the area as she took to long walks down the length of the beach, rain or shine, sometimes past the boundary marker that her hosts had warned her not to stray beyond. The only conceivable risk beyond said boundary was of encountering Muggles, anyhow, and Hermione— or perhaps Nina— was confident that she could hold her own against any undesirable beach-goers.

She still wasn't sure who she was, now; she could still feel Nina's forcefulness asserting itself, sometimes nearly dominating her entirely, but Hermione herself was still always there— sometimes as little more than a background awareness, but ever-present, all the same. She often wondered if she was _allowing _Nina to dominate, not wanting to deal with her unhappy situation. At the same time, Nina seemed less foreign to her now; she was more like a partner—an unlikely ally—than a psychic intruder, and she was beginning to accept that Nina was just an extreme side of her multifaceted personality. The only definitive difference between them, now, was their individual memories.

These were leaking through to each other, and neither was adapting well. Nina was confused by Hermione's past associations, as she became suddenly aware of personal histories that hinted at a life much more full and meaningful than her own had been. Hermione, meanwhile, was deeply disturbed by memories of Nina's that would surface from time to time, and attempted to suppress these as much as possible. As a result, Nina's psychic advance would follow Hermione's timid retreat as she took to reminiscing on the subjects Hermione found so reprehensible.

It was as if she were talking to herself: _Oh, god, _Hermione would think from the dubious safety of her background retreat, recoiling from Nina's memory, _I don't want to know about that; please tell me it isn't true. _Nina would then reply, _Oh, it happened, alright— but it really wasn't so bad, doll... it's not as if those creeps could actually touch you. They had to stay on their side of the glass— those were the rules... I'd just pretend to be turned on by what they'd say to me— or turned off, if that's what they wanted— and play along with their fantasy while I waited for them to jerk themselves off; it was a piece of cake, really. One of the easiest jobs I ever had. _After a time, Hermione would think, _Actually, I had a job babysitting my neighbor's poodle one summer... he was such a love. I would have done it for free. Crookshanks was hardly pleased with the arrangement, though... _Hermione would then feel Nina's uncertainty as she tried to imagine who 'Crookshanks' was. _Don't you remember? _she'd offer helpfully, _He's my cat. I love him terribly. I hope he's alright..._

Such 'conversations' were occurring so regularly that Hermione hardly realized they were happening; to her, it just felt like she was trying to come to terms with her fractured thoughts. After awhile, these thoughts would inevitably drift back to Severus, which was a subject that both sides seemed to be in agreement on. Thoughts of Severus moved through her less in a conversational style than in a constant stream of sorrowful longing. She just wanted him back. Everything else felt secondary to her.

...

* * *

><p>It was late one night, shortly before the new year, when Hermione heard Remus' voice downstairs. He hadn't been back since he'd left her with Bill and Fleur, though she knew that he had been in communication with them. Surprised to hear him now, Hermione crept out onto the landing to listen to the conversation happening in the living room below.<p>

"It's been confirmed: six men were killed that morning. All Death Eaters, all within moments of each other, despite the considerable distance between the bodies."

"How is that possible?" Bill asked in astonishment.

"I haven't been able to figure it out, Bill," Remus replied, "—but if I had to guess, I'd say Dark magic was involved."

"And they don't know who was responsible?" Fleur asked.

"Actually, that's why I'm here," Remus said in an undertone, causing Hermione to have to strain to hear him. "My source tells me that it was Snape."

Hermione's eyes widened as the husband and wife gasped in unison, exchanging bewildered looks with each other before turning back to Remus, awaiting an explanation.

"I'm having trouble believing it, myself, but my source is very reliable."

"How can that be?" Bill questioned, "Why would he do something like that?"

"I'm still trying to make sense of it," Remus murmured. "All I know is that Voldemort is furious. Snape has been officially marked as a defector, and Voldemort wants him dead."

"Are you sure about that?" Bill considered, "Couldn't this just be some kind of twisted ploy to get us to trust him?"

"I have thought about that," Remus replied, "and I still don't trust the bastard for a second, but my source is quite convinced that Voldemort was genuinely outraged by what happened — apparently Lucius Malfoy was in charge of the team that Snape took down, and he's not faring too well at the moment."

"I'll bet," Bill exclaimed, shaking his head, "that poor bastard has taken the blame for enough of old Voldy's failures, already... I'm surprised he's still alive..."

"Hmph," Fleur muttered, "that man does not deserve our sympathy."

"I'm just saying," Bill countered, "I wouldn't want to be Lucius Malfoy right now."

"Yes, well, the fact of the matter is, we now have to seriously consider how we should handle this turn of events," Remus said as he pressed his fingertips together. "I'll have to bring it up at the next meeting with Minerva and Kingsley, and I want to make sure we're all on the same page. I imagine this issue could get pretty divisive if we're not careful."

"What's the issue, exactly?" Fleur contested, "As far as I see it, we should leave this for the Death Eaters to deal with. Snape is their business. Why concern ourselves any further?"

Remus looked to Bill for support, not wanting to enter into a debate with the outspoken quarter-Veela before he had to. Bill caught the look, dutifully turning to his wife to explain, "I think what Remus means is that this raises important questions about Snape's true loyalties. Even if he _is_ just a Death Eater who's lost it, we have to at least consider the possibility that there's more to him than we thought."

"Why?" Fleur demanded, "Would you trust him again, after what he did to 'Ermione? What do you want to do? Invite him over for a little talk?"

Hermione felt her hackles rise at Fleur's insinuation, but forced herself not to speak out just yet. The Nina aspect in her was rearing for a fight, but her more rational instincts held firm, wanting to hear Remus' response.

"Of course not," Remus sighed, "but aren't you even slightly curious why he'd do such a thing?"

"No," Fleur asserted, "I'm not curious, because the answer is obvious! When things aren't going his way, he reacts with _violence!_ Snape is a murderer; he killed Dumbledore!"

Hermione nearly fell over the banister as she lost her balance, collapsing to her knees as she slid down the rails, clinging to them futilely for support. ..._Severus killed Dumbledore?_

Remus' sharp ears picked up the sound, and looked toward the stairs with concern. Bill and Fleur followed his gaze, realizing that they had an audience.

"Did she know?" Fleur whispered, a look of worry crossing her features.

"I don't think so," Remus murmured, rising from his seat and moving hesitatingly toward the stairwell. As he started climbing the first few steps, he could see Hermione's slumped form against the railing, her face stark white, her eyes distant.

"Hermione," Remus said quietly. "You must have overheard." climbing the rest of the way to move beside her, Remus crouched down and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry, love. You weren't meant to find out like this."

"_It's not true_," Hermione rasped in a small voice, "he wouldn't... you're wrong..."

"I really am sorry, Hermione, but Albus is dead, and Snape is responsible. Harry witnessed it, himself."

Hermione let out a small, broken cry at this news, shuddering as she collapsed further in on herself.

"'Ermione?" Fleur's voice lifted softly from the stairs below her, "Are you alright?"

"I think she needs some time to process this," Remus said quietly, rubbing the girl's back as she shivered uncontrollably.

"_You're wrong,_" she muttered feebly, "he's on our side... I _know _it... he was trying to help me..."

Remus and Fleur exchanged a glance before Remus replied, "Maybe he was. We don't know anything for certain, but the evidence against him is quite condemning. If he really was trying to help you, then perhaps he does have a conscience after all... but... that still doesn't mean that what he's done is all right. Nor does it prove that he isn't a self-serving traitor at heart."

When Hermione just let out another pained sound at his words, Remus glanced nervously at Fleur before trying to help Hermione to her feet. Fleur joined him as the two gently helped Hermione to her bedroom, where she collapsed in tears on the rug in front of her bed, refusing to get back up.

"_Just leave me alone_," she choked, batting Remus' hand away as he moved to lift her off the ground, "_please... leave me alone..._"

Remus and Fleur reluctantly obliged, feeling rather uneasy as they left the heartbroken girl to sob on the floor, not knowing how to help her.

"Do you think I should I stay and explain things to her when she's calmed down?" Remus asked outside the closed door, rubbing the back of his neck before anxiously crossing his arms.

Fleur looked to her husband in concern, not knowing what to do, either.

"I think we can explain everything," Bill offered quietly. "When are you supposed to meet with the others?"

"I thought I'd floo Minerva as soon as I was done here," Remus replied absently, glancing at the closed door with a small frown as Hermione's sobs filtered through.

"Perhaps we should consider this discussion at an end, then," Bill suggested. "You know where my wife stands, and I agree with you that we need to think this through a bit further, but, for now, I'm not ready to trust Snape so easily."

"I'm sure we all feel the same," Remus sighed. "It still doesn't make it any easier deciding what to do about it."

"But what _can_ we do, anyway?" Fleur whispered, "I doubt we're going to be seeing him around here anytime soon; not after he betrayed Voldemort. He'd have to have a death wish to come back, now."

"Yes, that's probably true," Remus agreed. "Still, we need to be prepared in case we do encounter him again."

As Bill and Fleur nodded in understanding, the trio remained quiet for a long beat as they thought about the difficult position they were in. At length, Remus decided to see what Minerva and Kingsley had to say about it, postponing any further discussion until everyone had had a chance to weigh in. Minerva would bring it up with the Inner Circle Order members under her lead, while Kingsley would pass it on to those under his. It was too risky to call full meetings of the entire body for anything less than an emergency, so their affairs were handled in this way for now.

"Do let me know how she's doing, later, will you?" Remus asked as he took up his coat in the back entryway, preparing to head out to the Apparation boundary.

"Of course," Fleur replied. "I hope I haven't upset her too much. She had to find out sooner or later..."

"It's not your fault," Remus assured her. "There's so much she's missed; it seems cruel to fill her in on all the hard parts when she's still so fragile, but we need to get her up to speed soon... Minerva's working on getting in touch with Harry and Ron. Once they get here, there's going to be no holding back. You know how confrontational Harry is. It's probably better that we start informing her about everything before he does."

"I'll try, Remus, but she's been very difficult to talk to. I do want to help her, but she's not making it easy..."

"Do you think I should bring Molly in on this?" Remus asked.

"Oh, no," Fleur objected, perhaps a little too quickly, "I'm sure I can manage on my own."

Remus quirked a small smile before leaning in to kiss Fleur on the cheek before departing. "Of course you can," he conceded, pulling on his coat. "I'm not so sure Molly could do any better, now. Not when Hermione's so convinced that Snape is some kind of misunderstood hero."

"Well, now that she knows the truth about what happened to Dumbledore, perhaps she'll start to see sense."

"Let's hope so," Remus agreed.

...

* * *

><p>Severus knew that something was wrong. His heart had been heavy for so long that he almost didn't realize that a new weight had settled upon it, but as he looked out his cabin window as his Pelni ship took off from the port in Jakarta, he recognized the pain as something more than his own. He didn't know how, but he was sure that— somewhere— Hermione was hurting, and he was feeling it.<p>

He wished that he could just Apparate to her, wherever she was; just follow this indistinct thread that somehow connected him to her, guided by instincts never before utilized, until he reached her. He would take her in his arms if she'd let him; he'd take her and hold her and never, ever let her go. But it wasn't possible. Until he made it to an untraceable destination, he was stuck on the slow path of Muggle transportation, a fugitive from his fellows. He knew that Voldemort wouldn't hesitate to take him down the moment he made his location known. The only way Lucius could have tracked him to Australia was if the country had adopted the new Death Eater alert system that was sweeping the globe; he hadn't expected it to happen so soon. Nowhere was safe in the meantime; he'd have to severely limit his use of magic until he made it to a clear zone. He knew of several places that were sure to be untraceable, but getting to them required patience. He was fortunate that he still had plenty of Muggle currency on hand after his last journey around the world, or else he'd be much worse off than he was now.

Another cold wind blew across his heart just then, and he rubbed his chest absently in concern. _Was it only his imagination? Phantom anxieties brought on by his recent loss? Or was he really feeling Hermione's sadness? _He wondered what could have upset her so... He didn't have to think on it for too long. His blood turned to ice as he realized what she must have found out by now; the horror that he had tried to spare her. _Albus..._

He didn't want to do it. Wouldn't have, if the old man hadn't already been dying. He knew what the others had thought; what they must have said about him afterwards. That had always been the intention, though it didn't work out quite as planned.

Voldemort was beginning to doubt Severus' loyalty when he failed to produce the girl, as promised. Dumbledore thought that by killing him, Severus would be able to regain his position in Voldemort's ranks, which would make him more useful to the Order. It was poorly conceived. By that time, Severus had already fallen so low that he knew nothing short of handing over Hermione would put him back in Voldemort's good graces, and that would never happen. Voldemort was already furious that he had approved Snape's initial plan to dispense of the girl, suspecting that it was all a plot to get her away from him before he'd gotten wind of the prophecy. Had Severus not managed to provide incontrovertible evidence that the prophecy hadn't been revealed until _after_ she had disappeared— and that Dumbledore and the Order were also scrambling to retrieve her— Voldemort would have killed him then. He was a little surprised when Voldemort agreed to his offer to go and find the girl, himself, expecting to be punished for his insolence. He suspected that Voldemort's paranoia over the prophecy had trumped his outrage, though there had been a very unsettling way about the serpentine tyrant when he had granted Severus leave. He had not been surprised, then, when Lucius started following him.

Dumbledore's plan had failed when Severus' only recourse after killing him had been to flee the country, never to return. Albus had intended for Severus to be appointed Headmaster of Hogwarts under Voldemort's subsequent regime, but it was not to be. Voldemort knew that none of the trio would return to the school under these circumstances, and he needed his men elsewhere. Hogwarts had been closed.

Severus' relationship with Albus in the weeks leading up to his death had been quite tense, as well. Albus wanted Severus to give up on the girl, convinced that she would somehow just happen to show up at the right time. He urged Severus to be taken off the assignment, insisting that he needed to stay close to Voldemort so that his position as a spy could be utilized. He was hardly of any use to the Order while he was chasing shadows around the world. Their arguments had been heated, as Albus repeatedly called Severus' judgement into question. When he had accused Severus of becoming obsessed with the girl during one particularly strained Order meeting, others started questioning Snape's motives, as well. _Why __**was **__he so committed to finding her? Why wouldn't he just follow Albus' instructions, and let those better suited to the task take over the job? _

When Harry had gotten wind of these suspicions, he was only too quick to jump to the conclusion that Snape had done something to Hermione before he'd allowed her to be taken by the slave traders. Harry was convinced that Snape was trying to cover his tracks, not wanting Hermione to be found before he could clean up the evidence of whatever gruesome crime he had committed against her. For the most part, Harry was alone in these fanatical allegations. No one else wanted to believe in such a notion, though the suspicion hadn't been so easily dismissed. Nobody really knew enough about the man to know what he was capable of. They already thought that he was self-serving, balancing his loyalties carefully in order to ensure his position when either side prevailed. Whatever else went through that dark mind of his was a mystery that nobody was really compelled to contemplate.

He could only imagine what they were saying about him, now. With great heaviness, he considered what Hermione would think of him after they'd all said their piece. _Would she hate him? Would she think he had lied to her? —That he was only doing Voldemort's bidding? _Even if she knew better than to believe such a thing, he imagined his motives would still be called into question once she knew what he had done. She might think that he was some kind of desperate criminal, who had killed Albus out of spite when he tried to interfere with his plans to find her. It was almost true, except for the fact that he wouldn't have actually done it if Albus hadn't made him give his word. He'd been a complete wreck of a man afterward, moving brokenly from seedy nightclub to seedier nightclub — bad cathouse to worse cathouse — nursing a wounded soul. By that time, his determination to find Hermione had been the only thing keeping him going, as he was hardly of any other use to Potter, anymore. Though, even then, he knew that the true reason he sought her was more personal than that.

She might wonder why he had been so desperate to find her, after the brief, seemingly innocuous intimacy they had shared before she'd been taken away. _What if she concluded that he was some kind of pervert, after all? —That he really had been desperate to reconnect with her after learning of her innocent crush? —That he'd gone insane, killing Albus when he tried to come between them? Would she think he'd done it all on purpose, setting her up to give herself to him when the chastity spell had prevented him from taking what he wanted from Nina? Would she despise him for it? Would she be disgusted with what she'd done? ...Would she regret it?_

Severus moaned as he buried his face in his hands, overwhelmed by his mounting anxieties. He had to get back to her before they turned her against him completely. He had to see her again, if only to set things right. He'd have to be very careful not to get himself killed in the process, which might prove difficult when the two most powerful factions in the Wizarding U.K. were both out for his blood... But he had to try. Somehow he'd find a way. He couldn't die without letting her know that he really had loved her.

...


	42. Chapter 42

Chapter 42

.

In the wake of Hermione's shock over the revelation that her one-time lover had murdered Albus Dumbledore, Nina had resumed her previous (if unconscious) role as protector. Any dealings Bill, Fleur or Remus had with the girl were conducted through Nina, who refused to acknowledge any prior history with any of them. Though they still insisted on calling her 'Hermione,' she was— by all outward appearances— a stranger among them.

After putting up with her strange behavior for a whole week, Remus decided that they weren't making any headway with her and that they would need to try something else. He was increasingly frustrated by Hermione's reaction to Albus' death, as he couldn't understand why such news would cause her to become uncommonly _flirtatious_ with him. Though it was an empty sort of flirtatiousness— the kind that certain undesirable witches loitering about the dark corners of Knockturn Alley displayed for passing strangers— it still shook him to the core to receive such attention from Hermione Granger. He knew she most likely did it to bother him (she had to direct her unhappiness at someone, and he was one of the only three targets available to her), but he still couldn't remain indifferent to it. He had taken to avoiding her.

His strategy had backfired when Fleur started noticing Hermione acting differently around Bill, and had promptly intervened. Though her husband had remained mostly oblivious to Hermione's changed behavior, Fleur hadn't missed a thing. Her and Nina's 'cat fights' were becoming regular occurrences around the little cottage, quickly escalating from stinging comments to full-on screeching matches before Bill would step in, separating his wife before their fights turned physical. Nina would laugh all the way to her bedroom as poor Remus— Patronused back once again to act as reluctant mediator— would usher her up the stairs, twisting away from her as she'd slide her hands down his body, making lewd jokes. It was enough to put any man on edge; especially when he had so much else to deal with already, what with a pregnant wife and nearly a third of the Order under his authority.

As soon as Remus would close the door behind her— effectively banishing her to her room like a misbehaving child— Hermione would break down and cry, allowing Nina's protective mask to slip as her pent-up frustrations and lasting sadness erupted in a tempestuous fit of tears. Remus could do no more than listen outside the door, his head resting against the frame as he sighed in defeat. _When had his life become such a melodrama? _

Hermione was not in her right mind; that much was clear enough. He just had no idea what to do about it. He knew that hers was a sad tale, and that she must have endured unimaginable torments to end up like she was. Unfortunately, the Order lacked a skilled Legilimens ever since Snape's defection, or else Remus might consider having her checked for signs of a botched Obliviation. It was baffling that at least _some _of her memories were still in tact, since she had recognized him well enough when he'd first found her. He wasn't sure if her changed behavior now was some kind of demented game, or if she really believed that she was this 'Nina' character. _A bit of Legilimency would certainly be helpful at such a time..._

...

"I understand, Fleur— believe me, I do— but this really is the safest place for her right now; there just isn't anywhere else I can take her."

"Then Bill and I will leave! You stay here and deal with her, Remus. I won't put up with it any longer!"

"You know I can't do that," Remus insisted apologetically. "With Dora pregnant, and my other duties, I just can't take this on, as well. Please try to understand why I have to ask this of you; there just isn't any other way..."

"It's all right, Remus," Bill quietly assured him, "we can handle Hermione ourselves." Looking beseechingly at his flustered wife, Bill managed to coax her into relaxing her stance, if only slightly.

"I don't like the way she talks to me, Bill," Fleur whispered. "It's insulting."

"If it's any consolation, I'm sure she doesn't mean those things," Remus tried. "Something's not right with her; you must realize that."

Sighing heavily, Fleur sank down onto the sofa beside her husband, allowing him to massage her neck and shoulders. "Yes, Remus, I know. She is _crazy_. But that still doesn't make it all right."

"I was thinking—" Remus started, "perhaps now would be a good time to consider bringing Poppy Pomfrey in on the secret? If there's any kind of medical reason why Hermione is acting so strange, I'm sure Poppy would be able to tell us."

"That might not be such a bad idea..." Bill considered thoughtfully, looking to his wife for her opinion.

"Could she stay here and look after her, do you think?" Fleur asked.

"Well, she's still the only certified healer we have on hand for emergencies, so whatever time she can devote would only be temporary, since we can't start delivering all of our casualties here... but I'll ask her to stay on to observe Hermione for a few days, if you think it would help."

"A few days off is better than nothing," Fleur readily affirmed. Bill smirked at her and turned his eyes toward Remus with a small nod.

"Then it's settled," Remus declared, hunching forward in his chair to rest his elbows on his thighs. "Assuming that Poppy will agree, I'll try to bring her over sometime tomorrow."

"Make sure she brings an overnight bag with her," Fleur instructed.

...

As Hermione's tears subsided, she pulled herself up heavily off her pillow and into a sitting position, waiting for her head to stop swimming before tiredly shuffling to her little nook beside the window. A stray sob rose up in her chest before dying away with a long sigh as she tucked her legs in to rest her head on her knees, looking out toward the lonely beach and the sea that never delivered her long lost lover.

She didn't know exactly why she still cried like she did whenever Remus shut her away, but she was terribly unhappy. She wanted to think that it was because of her great disappointment, now knowing that she'd nearly given her heart to a cold-blooded killer— but she still couldn't believe the worst of him. She didn't know what was more terrible: the fact that he'd killed Dumbledore, or the fact that knowing this didn't stop her from feeling the way she did about him. ..._What did that say about her? What had she become, if she could still want a man who had murdered the greatest hero of The Light? Just how lost was she, now?_

He hadn't acted like a deranged killer around her, though; he'd really been a perfect gentleman. She would even say that he had been uncommonly kind to her. _Did this dichotomy make him even more of a psychopath?... _Whatever the case, the fact remained that she still longed for him to come back to her and take her away from this lonely place; she wanted nothing more than to be back in that dilapidated old shack with him, sharing meals and a bed and mind-blowing kisses, and waking up in the safety of his arms. The Nina aspect in her supplied her imagination with the rest, filling in every detail of just what she wanted to do with him in between all the kissing. _What was wrong with her, to want such a man?_

Ignoring Nina's ongoing, salacious explanation of why she had every reason to desire such a man, Hermione groaned against her legs as she wrapped her arms tightly around herself in a fruitless attempt at self-comfort. There was no way out of it. Killer or not, she wanted Severus, but Severus was long gone. She'd heard Remus telling her hosts why Snape couldn't return to the wizarding U.K. without risking his immediate assassination. _Perhaps he wouldn't want to, even if he could..._

Perhaps he regretted everything that had happened between them. He must have known that continuing anything with her would have been impossible outside of their Australian retreat. They'd lived in a cozy little bubble out there until Remus had come along and popped it, forcing them back into the real world. Severus had probably woken up by now. Maybe he was ashamed of himself for letting it go so far, and would want to steer clear of her for the rest of his life. _After all— what would such a powerful, mature and distinguished wizard want with a broken little witch like her? What would __**any**__ respectable wizard want with a woman who had come from the places she had been?_ Virgin or not, she'd hardly led an honorable life before he'd found her_ — she was damaged goods... of course he'd want to be rid of her as soon as his conscience was appeased..._ It wasn't such an unreasonable conclusion, but it still hurt like hell to consider. _Was she wrong to want Dumbledore's killer? ...or was it the other way around?_

...

Poppy Pomfrey had readily agreed to Remus' request, though perhaps more out of curiosity than because of an inherent sense of duty. She was glad to help the Order however she could— especially now that Hogwarts had been closed and she spent most days assisting at St. Mungo's— but when Remus had asked her to spend a few days at an undisclosed location looking after an unnamed patient who he insisted was vital to the war effort, she had been fully intrigued.

Even more intriguing was the fact that Remus was unable to help her determine what kind of care this mysterious patient might require:

"_Do they have any major injuries?" _

"_I don't believe so." _

"_Are they suffering from any kind of curse damage?"  
><em>

_"...I couldn't say for certain..." _

"_Have they experienced any notable trauma recently?" _

"_...I would say so, yes." _

"..._Can't you tell me anything about the nature of the trauma?" _

"_I can't... not yet." _

"_This is all very irregular, Remus." _

"_I quite agree."_

After packing enough supplies for any number of ailments, Poppy met Remus the following morning feeling only slightly miffed— her well-concealed excitement overriding any professional frustrations. She was surprised when he Apparated them to a sand dune outside a beachfront cottage, having expected to be transported to some shady hovel. She surveyed the area before looking down at her feet with a small frown as sand engulfed her freshly-polished boots.

"Well, this is certainly more _romantic_ than I was expecting," Poppy muttered as Remus offered a hand to lead her toward a small path.

"I really am sorry for all the secrecy, Poppy, but when you see who your patient is, I'm sure you'll understand."

The pair made their way silently toward the back entry of the pretty cottage, Remus ushering Poppy past the wards as they accepted her as his welcomed guest. As soon as she crossed the threshold, she felt a subtle charm wash over her shoes, ridding them of any traces of sand as she entered the cozy space. She smirked at the little charm, appreciating its inconspicuous efficiency.

Remus led her into a tastefully furnished sitting room where she was greeted by her surprise hosts, smiling as she recognized them. "Hello, Mr Weasley! Mrs Weasley! How nice to see you two again!"

"Hello, Madame Pomfrey," Fleur greeted her warmly, "thank you so much for coming. We _truly_ appreciate it."

Taken aback a little by the witch's sincerity, Poppy wondered what kind of patient had the quarter-veela so concerned.

"Yes, we sure do," Bill agreed. "We've been quite at a loss about how we should handle her. It's such a relief to have you here."

"So, my patient's a _her_, is she?" Poppy asked with a lift of her brows.

"Remus hasn't told you?" Fleur asked with some surprise, looking to Remus in confusion.

"I thought it best that she not know until the last minute," Remus explained.

"Oh, but you _will_ stay on, won't you?" Fleur asked a little too urgently, "We do hope you'll stay a few days..."

Poppy just glanced at Remus questioningly before answering, "I'll stay if I'm needed, Mrs Weasley... as lovely as your home is, I'm a rather busy woman; this is no time for me to go on a seaside holiday."

Accepting her answer with as much grace as she could muster, Fleur backed off and looked to Remus with worried eyes. She really hoped the mediwitch would relieve her from Nina duty for a little while.

"Well, Remus? Are you going to blindfold me next, or can I meet this mysterious patient yet?"

"That won't be necessary," Remus smirked, holding out a hand toward the stairwell. "Right this way."

As the pair ascended the stairs, Poppy tried to imagine what the strange tension in the sitting room had been all about. After Fleur's little display, she had a feeling that this assignment would be even less straightforward than she'd anticipated. _Something curious was definitely afoot..._

Once they'd gained the landing Remus paused outside a bedroom door, knocking lightly before murmuring, "Hermione? There's someone here to see you."

_Did he just say 'Hermione'?_ Poppy wondered, eyes widening as a flutter of hope stirred in her breast; ..._Hermione Granger? ...Surely not..._

As he opened the door, Poppy suppressed a gasp as she recognized the girl curled up in the window seat across from her, dressed in an over-sized denim jacket covered in brightly-colored patches. "Merlin! You found her," she breathed, grasping Remus' arm in surprise. She and Hermione exchanged a long glance before Hermione dropped her eyes, turning back toward her window view.

"I'll just leave you to it, then," Remus said quietly. "I'll let her explain; this way she won't have to worry that I've already skewed your opinion."

"My opinion about what?" Poppy asked in concern.

Remus just made a strange, sort of apologetic face before patting Poppy on the shoulder and making his way back downstairs. Frowning at the odd behavior, Poppy made a disapproving noise before shutting and warding the door for privacy.

"No one can hear us now, dear," she assured, crossing tentatively to the girl who it seemed she hadn't seen in an age. "My, my... _so much has happened_ since you disappeared," she murmured, pulling up a chair to sit across from her as she studied her face. "I was beginning to think we'd never see you again... but I'm very glad you're back with us, now." Poppy watched as the silent girl's face fell slightly at her last remark, and she cocked her head minutely in assessment. "...But maybe you're not quite as happy about it as we are?" she quietly guessed.

Hermione looked to the mediwitch with a strange expression: something torn between a doubt in her ability to understand, and a small hope that maybe she could. "I'm not Hermione anymore," she said in a dull voice.

Poppy's brow lifted at that, but she refrained from commenting further. "I see. Do you want me to call you something else?" she asked casually as she settled her wand in her lap.

"Nina," the girl answered quietly.

"All right then, Nina; do you mind if I run a few diagnostic spells over you to check on your condition?" When the girl shrugged after considering the request for a moment, Poppy nodded and began her tests, giving her a thorough examination.

"There are small traces of potions in your system; nothing malignant though... a couple healing remedies from the look of it..." the mediwitch observed aloud as she read over the glowing results. "You haven't suffered any recent injuries aside from a minor burn, and..." the mediwitch paused for a moment as she narrowed her eyes at one of the results, before a look of comprehension crossed her features, "Oh..." she said quietly, with a carefully concealed hint of surprise, "I see. You were, until recently, a virgin."

Hermione looked up at the woman with a strange expression, seeming at once defensive and insecure.

"Now, now. No need to look at me like that; I'm not here to judge you. I'm only here to make sure you're all right," the mediwitch assured her. "I can see that you've also had a contraceptive procedure that was magically performed over a year ago, and that there's no risk of pregnancy."

Hermione swallowed nervously at that, apparently not having considered the thought until that moment.

"There's no sign of abnormal trauma, either, but that doesn't rule out the possibility that the recent intercourse wasn't consensual," the mediwitch added carefully, "...Can I ask you about that, dear?"

"I wasn't raped," Hermione hissed, a little too bitterly.

"I'm only obligated to ask; I'm not implying anything," Pomfrey huffed. "If you say it was consensual, I won't argue. There's nothing to indicate otherwise."

Hermione narrowed her eyes again as she tried to determine whose side the woman was on. "They think I was raped, but they're wrong. They don't know what really happened," she muttered.

Poppy looked at her with some surprise before returning her attention to her task. "People can make mistakes," she said quietly. "I'm sure they're only concerned about you."

As the mediwitch worked quietly, Hermione considered whether or not she should accept the woman as a potential ally. Since she'd managed to alienate the others so completely, it would certainly help to feel that _someone_ was on her side. At any rate, she had no one else to really talk to now, aside from herself.

"Did Remus tell you how he found me?" she asked with some suspicion.

"No, dear; he was quite mysterious about it all. Until a few moments ago, I had no idea who he was bringing me here to see. I'm very glad it's you, though; I was devastated when I heard about how you'd been taken. We all were, you know."

Hermione considered that for a moment before summoning her resolve and admitting, "I was with Severus. When Remus found me."

"Severus _Snape_?" Poppy replied, blinking in astonishment as she paused her readings.

"Yes. He was the one who really saved me; Remus never would have found me if he hadn't already. He was trying to help me," Hermione insisted, "But then Remus came and took me away from him before..."

Poppy watched in concern as the girl's words broke off and her eyes filled with tears, a monumentally sad look clouding her pretty face. Though she didn't know why, exactly, Poppy's heart broke to see her so.

"There, there," she cooed, reaching over to pat her arm, "it's all right; you can cry in front of me if you want to. I don't mind. I can see that you're very upset about something, and I do want to help you, if I can..."

"But you can't," Hermione sobbed, trying in vain to reign in another fit of tears. "Everything's ruined now. Severus is gone and he's not coming back, and I'm stuck here with people who hate him."

"Where has he gone?" Poppy asked gently, "Is he dead?" she whispered.

"No!" Hermione cried, "I mean, I don't think so... oh God, I hope not... I don't know!"

"Oh, dear... I'm sorry to upset you further; I really know so little about what's going on these days. Severus has always been a clever young man; I'm sure he can take care of himself..."

"Then you don't want him dead?" Hermione nearly whispered, "Even after he... he..."

"You mean, after Albus?" Poppy continued helpfully, watching Hermione nod solemnly as her lip trembled. "That was a very sad day," Poppy sighed. "Albus was a dear, dear friend. But..." she paused to consider what she was about to say before deciding it would be appropriate, glancing at Hermione thoughtfully, "Severus was a friend, too. I was shocked by what happened, of course, but I have been very worried about him ever since. I've known him since he was a boy, and knew him better as a colleague. ...He never wanted to be a Death Eater, you know. Not really."

Hermione blinked away her tears in surprise as she registered the matron's words, feeling a small hope swell in her chest. "I don't think that he really was," she whispered. "He was on our side. He was trying to help."

Poppy furrowed her brows in concern, offering the girl a handkerchief as she asked, "Did he tell you why he did it?"

Shaking her head miserably, Hermione replied, "I didn't know about it until I came here. It's... it's been a bit of a shock."

"Oh, my. I'm sure it has been," Poppy offered consolingly. "I can see that you're very defensive of Severus, and I won't challenge you on that," the mediwitch promised. "He's always needed someone to stand in his corner. If you want to talk about it, I'd be more than willing to listen, dear. It sounds like you have quite a bit that's troubling you right now... perhaps it would do you some good to talk through it with someone who won't react quite as emotionally as I suspect those other three might have."

"Remus won't listen to me," Hermione confirmed with a dark expression. "He's convinced that Severus brainwashed me or something. Bill and Fleur are on his side."

"Well, then. If I promise to be as neutral as possible, would you trust me not to turn against you? I might be somewhat old-fashioned, but I've always rooted for the underdog, you know. If you say that Severus is not quite as bad as Remus has made him out to be, I'm willing to hear your side of things. Then perhaps we can try to figure out why Remus brought me all the way out here when it seems that the only thing wrong with you is a broken heart."

"Well," Hermione started, "it's a long story..."

Poppy smiled at her and patted her hand before replying, "Then it's a good thing I planned to stay for awhile."

...

It was hours before Poppy reemerged from Hermione's bedroom, by which time Remus had returned to hear her assessment. She met with the three Order members in the dining room as Fleur set out a light lunch, asking whether she should invite Hermione down to join them.

"I would give her a little time to herself, dear," Poppy advised. "We had quite the little talk; I'm sure she'd appreciate having some space to reflect on what was said."

"Then you know what's going on with her?" Bill asked.

"I know that she's rather confused about who she is right now, yes," the older woman confirmed.

"What do you make of it, Poppy?" Remus asked, leaning forward eagerly as he fidgeted with his fork.

"Well, she's suffering from post-Obliviation syndrome, that's for certain; but it's not as severe as some cases I've seen. For the most part, I believe she knows who she is, she just doesn't want to accept it."

"Why not?" Fleur asked.

"For any number of reasons, I suppose," Poppy sighed, "but it's up to her, now; there's little I can do to further that acceptance, other than offering her my support and friendship— which, by the way, I don't think she got quite enough of from you lot."

"What are you saying?" Remus asked with concern, "Of course we're her friends; we're trying to help her..."

"Yes, but it's the way you've been going about it that's gotten her so on edge. From what she's told me, it sounds as if you three have been ganging up on her."

"_Ganging up?" _Fleur repeated incredulously, "That's ridiculous! We just all agree that she's out of control..."

Looking to Bill and Remus, Fleur was surprised to see them looking slightly sheepish. "What is it? Do you think we've been 'ganging up'?" she challenged.

"Perhaps a little," Remus admitted, somewhat grudgingly. "Though it wasn't intentional... we've just been hard-pressed to know how to handle her. She's been behaving rather oddly," he told the mediwitch. "It's made things quite uncomfortable around here."

"I can't say as I blame her," Poppy huffed. "Anyone might react strangely when thrown into such an impossible situation as this."

"...What's so impossible about it?" Bill asked thoughtfully.

"Well, she can hardly be expected to just forget about everything that happened and simply take up as if she never left in the first place, which it seems is what all of you want from her."

"I wouldn't go that far," Remus murmured, "but we do need her back with us; mentally, that is. She's vital to our efforts, even if she doesn't realize it yet. Dumbledore always said so."

"All the same," Poppy continued, "she is just a girl, after all. She's still so _young_; you have to consider that. This is all going to be rather hard on her. I don't think she'll get over it that easily."

"Get over what, exactly?" Bill asked, exchanging a worried look with his wife.

Poppy raised an eyebrow as she looked between the three of them, wondering why they seemed so confused. "Why, getting over her broken heart, of course..."

"You mean, since Snape killed Dumbledore?" Fleur asked.

Poppy darted her glance around the three faces again, stunned by their lack of comprehension. "Are you serious? You three haven't figured it out yet?"

"...Poppy?" Remus questioned.

With a small huff of disbelief, the mediwitch critically elaborated: "Do you really need me to tell you? There's nothing wrong with her that time won't heal — the girl is_ in love._"

...

Hermione just had to get out of the house for awhile. She'd heard the hushed voices in the dining room and knew that the others would be well-occupied for some time as they emphatically dissected what little they knew of her love life, bickering back and forth while they tried to make sense of it all. Nobody had noticed, then, when she crept down the stairs and slipped out the front door, her bare feet treading silently through the cold sand as she made her way down toward the beach. It was drizzling slightly, and the denim jacket provided scant warmth over the little jade colored, silken slip dress that she was still wearing, but she didn't care. She just needed to breathe fresh air again and get away from the others; she just needed to feel like she was free of them.

Confiding in Poppy had been helpful, but the catharsis had also unleashed a plethora of emotions that she'd been struggling to repress for some time. These swamped her now, bringing up tired old wounds that she had no inclination to revisit. She felt that getting as far away from the others as possible would be a way of escaping her own emotional turmoil for a little while, since much of it was tied to them and the unfortunate situation they'd helped put her in. As she moved briskly down the shoreline— the ocean roar soothing her nerves like nothing else could— she did start to feel somewhat lighter for a short time, until a new, phantom heaviness had settled over her heart as she progressed further down the beach. Something felt off to her, but she was determined to keep going, and shrugged it off as a useless anxiety.

She hesitated as she approached the boundary marker, remembering Bill's warning. She was about to cross into Muggle territory; _surely nobody would come to the beach on a day like this... _Even as she assured herself that there was nothing to fear, she felt odd as she stepped past the large sea stack, her determined steps faltering a little as she made her way through the rocky pass. There was nothing but sea and sand to her right, while on her left was a large section of rock that separated the Tinworth beach from the rest of Cornwall. Muggles would never try to pass it in the opposite direction, since the area was charmed to make them believe that the area was impermeable, and that there was nothing but treacherous sea beyond the pass. There shouldn't have been any reverse effect on Hermione that would make her question her own path; indeed, she had passed this way several times before— though never with the feeling of dread that threatened her, now...

Pushing past it stubbornly, Hermione turned the corner of another sea stack, tracing her hand along it only to feel her arm grabbed suddenly and pulled fast by a surprise assailant before a strong hand closed over her mouth, dragging her into a dark crevasse as she struggled in vain.

"_Don't scream_," a gruff voice murmured into her ear as she was pulled back against a man's chest, her eyes wide as his other arm held her firmly against him, preventing her struggle. He was strong and smelled foul; _some kind of drifter, apparently..._

Hermione wanted to cry for her stupidity; here she was trapped in some dirty fiend's clutches, and nobody even knew she had left her bedroom. _Was this really it? Now, after everything, was she to be raped and left for dead by some random hobo? _Summoning Nina, Hermione hoped that her street-wise counterpart would be able to help her out of this, somehow. In response to her desperation, she realized with some alarm that the Nina aspect in her was also terrified: '_Don't expect a miracle, kid — I don't want to seduce this guy any more than you do...'_

Before Hermione had a chance to come up with any kind of plan, she felt the arm around her loosen slightly as the hand at her mouth was hesitantly removed, as if waiting to see if she'd make any noise. _Should she try calling for help? Was this her only chance?_

"_Please, don't scream,"_ the man repeated, though his voice sounded softer now... _deeper_... almost like...

Hermione's breath hitched as she suddenly realized exactly whose voice it sounded like. ..._But how...?_

His hands gently bid her to turn around as she looked up in disbelief, recognizing the haggard, unshaven and unaccountably beautiful face as none other than that of her own paramour— the maligned fugitive, himself. His black eyes were haunted, and he regarded her with such a look of uncertainty and pained longing that she almost withdrew from the intensity of it. She never could have dreamt up such a powerful gaze. It was really him. _He came back_.

...


	43. Chapter 43

Chapter 43

.

(38 hours earlier)

.

_A beach. It had to be a beach. But what beach? ...What seaside place would Remus have taken her to?_

For over a week, Severus had dreamt of a beach. At first he imagined that it was only some construct of his unconscious; a metaphor for his emotional desolation. After the fourth night, though— by which time he'd noticed that his perspective of said beach would shift sometimes between looking down on it from somewhere above, to walking along the length of it— he began to wonder whether Hermione was trying to reach out to him. She'd told him that the link was still active; perhaps she was transmitting these impressions of her location, whether consciously or not. Anyhow, it was the best lead Severus had to go on. He'd begin his search by checking out some beaches.

He knew of quite a few wizarding communities in the U.K. that incorporated seaside property into their domain; the question was, where to start. Since he couldn't Apparate directly into any of them— what with the Death Eater alert system in place— he'd have to plan his route carefully around his travel limitations. Any Apparations would be limited to remote areas; from these places, he was able to fly to the edges of Muggle communities and back, utilizing Muggle transportation methods to get from one place to the next. It was a rough journey, and a painfully slow one, but at least this way he wouldn't get caught. In this way he'd already made it as far as Morocco, and had just boarded a train departing from Marrakesh; he'd reach Tangier in under ten hours. From there he'd be able to take a ferry headed for Gibraltar, though he'd Apparate off the ship mid-journey (since the open ocean was untraceable) to the nearby, small Spanish island of Alborán. He was somewhat nervous about this move (Apparating overseas in unfamiliar areas was tricky enough _without_ aiming for a tiny island as a landing point), but it was his best option. From Alborán he could Apparate as far as the remote region of Auvergne in France, which brought him within range of the Isles of Scilly. After one more harrowing Apparition to one of the more remote outlying islands there, he could fly over to the nearest ferry that would transport him to Cornwall. He wasn't looking forward to any of it (by nature he was a homebody, and loathed traveling), but it had to be done. He couldn't rest until he'd set things right with Hermione.

As long as he was in Cornwall, he supposed that the magical community of Tinworth would be as good a place as any to start his search. It wasn't far from Penzance, where the ferry out of Scilly would most likely take him. He had no knowledge of any Order safe house in Tinworth, but that didn't mean that one didn't exist; the others wouldn't have thought twice about keeping such a secret from him. Once, he had overheard Arthur Weasley whispering to Minerva about taking his wife to Tinworth for their anniversary; _perhaps the Weasleys have property there..._

Severus reviewed his maps, making mental notes and double-checking his remaining currency as he finalized his plan. He was beyond exhaustion at this point, having entered survival mode over a week ago. Any sleep he managed to catch was brief and unsatisfying, as he'd wake from those dreams of a dark and dreary beach with renewed anxiety over Hermione, fearing how she might perceive him now. He was certain that she knew he'd killed Dumbledore by now, and he could only imagine what conclusions she might have drawn. Even if he could set the record straight, he wasn't convinced that it would make any difference; the fact remained that he was simply not a nice man.

A better man couldn't have done it; a better man wouldn't have allowed himself to be manipulated into such a scheme. A better man never would have taken the Dark Mark; never would have entertained the notion of joining Voldemort in the first place. Severus had always known that he was not cut out for any decent kind of life. He was tainted from the start; his father had seen to that. He'd tried to better himself, sure— but turning to Dumbledore for help had been less about his own redemption than about doing right by Lily, the only person who had ever regarded him as a true friend. He knew that he could never fully integrate with his fellow Order members; he'd always be the wolf among their skeptical, paranoid flock. Deep down he was still the same person, no matter whose side he really fought on. He wondered if Hermione realized this.

Pushing his maps aside, Severus leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes, listening to the soft hum of the train. _What was he thinking, chasing after her like this? What did he really want from her? ...What did he expect? _Supposing she accepted his version of that night, he'd still have more obstacles to surmount with her. _Was he being selfish, hoping she could return his feelings? Even if she could— which would be more than extraordinary— ...what then? Would he whisk her away to enter into a life of hiding with him? _That would hardly be fair of him. Aside from how wrong it would be to expect such a sacrifice from Hermione, he still had the war effort to consider. Though he'd forfeited his own position in the grand scheme, he still owed it to Lily to do what he could for her son. If he stole Hermione away from the Order, he'd be stealing Potter's friend— possibly Potter's only chance to defeat Voldemort, if the damned prophecy had any merit. It would be unthinkably selfish of him.

The alternative was to try and stay with her, if the Order would even allow him to live. As unlikely as this scenario was, he doubted it would ever work. He'd made too many enemies on both sides to have any chance of living in that world for long. Supposing Hermione did accept him, it would be unfair to take advantage of such acceptance only to risk being killed shortly after. She'd been through too much already to endure the pain of seeing him killed as soon as she welcomed him into her heart.

Perhaps he was getting ahead of himself. He still had no reason to believe Hermione would forgive him so easily, let alone give her heart to someone like him. He wondered what would happen if he did manage to confront her, only for her to reject him face to face. _Could he handle it? Could he just walk away from something like that? _His anxieties over such a rejection were relentless as he imagined increasingly horrifying scenarios in which Hermione refused to accept him as anything less than a murdering villain. He broke out in a cold sweat as he pictured her face, twisted with scorn and derision as she rued the day she allowed him to touch her, hating him for deceiving her. He didn't think he could take such a cold reception from her. He thought he might die on the spot if she refused to allow him to touch her again.

And if he survived such a rejection, what then? He wondered what kind of life he'd be reduced to, afterward. He'd barely survived Lily's rejection after she refused to accept his apology, and that situation hadn't been nearly as portentous as this one. That petty squabble had cost him so much; it had hardened him beyond repair. He feared that Hermione's rejection would cost him far more, reducing him to a hopeless wreck of a man. He surely wouldn't survive it for long.

Maybe he was going about it all the wrong way... Maybe he was being too hasty in trying to confront Hermione in person. _Would it be enough, just to know she was all right? Could he walk away once he found her safe and well looked after? _It might not be easy, but perhaps it was the only way. If he truly loved her, perhaps he shouldn't force himself on her; shouldn't put her in a position where she had to accept or refuse him. Perhaps it would be better to explain himself in a letter, then disappear for awhile. That way, at least his timid heart could survive while in hiding, and she'd be free to live her own life without carrying the burden of his love. _For what was his love to her, if not a burden? Nothing good could come of it, aside from a fleeting, star-crossed bliss..._

_But how to write such a letter? What would he say? _Taking up a pen and his notebook, Severus started writing. Even if the effort was in vain, at least it was something to occupy his troubled mind while he waited out the long ride.

'_Dear Hermione'... no... 'Dearest Hermione'... gods, no. That won't do. 'My sweet...' oh damn it all... _

'_Hermione,_

_If you're reading this letter, it means I have found you. Please forgive my not approaching you in person, but for so many reasons I have decided that it would be best if I say what needs to be said in writing. I hope you won't think it means that I don't wish to see you again; nothing can be further from the truth. I've given the matter some thought and I know this to be the best course of action for both my own sake, and especially yours. _

_Perhaps I should start by admitting that I have kept certain facts from you, which you have undoubtedly come to know by now. I never meant to deceive you. I couldn't tell you about the Headmaster without risking your trust, and it was crucial that you trusted me while I was trying to help you. I only ever wanted to help you, Hermione. Please believe this. From the moment I saw you on that floor, broken and battered at Voldemort's feet, I've been determined to protect you to the best of my ability. Would that I could relate to you how much I cared for you, even then. I never wanted any of this for you; you deserved so much better. I blame myself for what came afterward — it was my own negligence that allowed you to be taken by those people. I thought that I could find you and fix it somehow, but I fear that I have failed you a second time.'_

Severus sighed as he glanced over what he'd written so far, hoping his words were sufficient. He was hardly in the right frame of mind to be composing decent prose, but he might not have a better opportunity to attempt it. He could always revise it later if need be...

With a deep breath, he began explaining the truth about Albus' death, telling her as much of the story as he was able to. It was hard for him to write about it now, but he hoped that the exercise might be somewhat cathartic. Maybe once he'd delivered his letter— if he ever figured out where to deliver it to— he'd be able to put it behind him once and for all.

'..._Now that you know the truth, you can judge me as you see fit. I don't expect a full acquittal from you; in fact, I hope you will be more discriminating than that. You know what I am, Hermione: what I was, and always will be. Don't let any romantic notions of vain redemption and empty heroism cloud your judgement. At heart I am entirely selfish. I admit as much to you only because I owe you this, and more. For now, I fear this is the best I can do to redress the balance. Though selfish, know that I still strive to maintain a strong set of principles. Without these I am nothing. _

_It goes against these principles to tell you what I'm about to write, but it must be said, or else I fear I'll lose my mind by keeping it to myself. I'm afraid that I've fallen in love with you. If you knew how much it hurts just to write those words, you'd know a fraction of what it feels like to carry this around with me. I'm not built for love. I can bear inhuman quantities of anger and resentment, sorrow and self-loathing — but love cripples me. I fear that if I saw you now— if I was close enough to touch you— this love would break me. Whether you'd push me away in disgust or welcome me with open arms, this love would destroy what little remains of my higher reasoning and would reduce me to waste. It might even make me do something I'd be sure to regret. In any event, neither of us would be spared from its exigencies. _

_I want to demand that you release me from this torment, but I know it's not your fault. Neither is it within your power to remedy. You see, you could trample my heart to pieces— verbally disembowel me if it came to that— but I would love you, still. My love is a perversion; an incurable disease. It is a sickness that would only grow more foul if you were to nurse it with all the tenderness I know you to be capable of. It would have you— all of you— if I were to let it run its course. Were you foolish enough to come close to it, you would surely be tainted by its pestilence. This is why I must keep away from you; this is why I write to you now, rather than tearing down the door of whatever place Remus has rightfully hidden you within and forcing you to acknowledge the complete misery that is my love for you. I won't subject you to its savagery. _

_Have I frightened you, yet? You ought to be frightened. I can only hope that, for your sake, I'll be able to resist seeking you out after this letter has been sent. You're better off without me, Hermione. You have to believe this. You have to accept it while I still have the power to admit it. If this letter reaches you, it means that I still have enough sense to offer you this way out. Take it. It might well be your only chance.'_

Severus grimaced as he wrote the last words, before slamming the notebook shut and throwing it across the small cabin space. It bounced off the opposite wall with a louder bang than he anticipated, causing the stranger in the adjoining cabin to beat their fist twice against the wall in protest. The train ride was an overnight service, and apparently some people were actually trying to sleep. With a heavy sigh, he supposed he might as well try to do the same.

...

By the time Severus made it to Cornwall, he looked (and smelled) pretty frightful. He hadn't had much time to tend to his appearance, and even less time to properly bathe. Freshening charms could only go so far when the grime really started building up, and he'd given it up as a lost cause. At least Hermione wouldn't have to see him like this. He'd finalized and sealed his letter now, though he hadn't altered much from the original draft. If he was lucky enough to find where Remus had taken her, he need only figure out a way of leaving the letter someplace it was sure to reach her. If he had the strength to walk away then, he would leave it at that. If not, he might have to stick around until he'd made sure she was all right. Hopefully that would be the end of it.

The community of Tinworth was accessible by beach from only one direction, the other being cut off by a sharp cliff face. Severus had figured out the bus route that would deliver him as close as possible to this beach; from that drop-off point, he'd have to walk via the Muggle beach until he reached the outskirts of the magical domain. It was a lengthy walk, but at least it was a scenic one.

There were no Muggles around on the beach that day except for a lone fisherman standing off in the distance down at the other end, since the weather was less than favorable. Severus pulled his collar up tighter around his neck as a light drizzle fell over him, the dampness saturating his filthy overcoat and making him reek like a wet animal. He considered casting a drying charm over himself, but felt it was hardly worth the effort. His magical reserves were in critical condition after all the long-distance Apparition he'd been doing, and he wondered if he could even pull it off if he tried. At any rate, he'd be better off avoiding even simple magic now that he was back in the U.K., since he would be even easier to trace now that he wasn't hopping around the globe. _Better safe than sorry, at least until Hermione was located. _

After awhile, he became aware of the powerful Muggle-repelling charms radiating off a section of beach a bit further up the coast. It was nearly cut off from the Muggle beach by large sea stacks and protruding cliff rock, which made it seem all the more secluded. Though he doubted that he'd be lucky enough to find Hermione at the first place he searched, it occurred to him that such a location would be an ideal place for a safe house. It was right on the outskirts of the magical community, cut off from the beach on the opposite side of the far cliff face (a more popular beach for wizarding kind, since it was far away from Muggle territory). Only wizards and witches who were comfortable occupying a space so close to Muggles would favor a stretch of beach like this; ..._wizards and witches like Arthur and Molly Weasley..._

As he neared the sea stacks, Severus realized a flaw in his plan: it was still the middle of the day. If he were to cross over into the Tinworth side without the cover of a concealing charm, he'd stand out like an inverted light house; a beacon of darkness against the pale sand. He'd just have to wait until nightfall to reconnoiter his way across the beach. If a safe house was hidden somewhere nearby, he should be able to sense the presence of its wards. Then he could figure out a more suitable hiding place.

With a long-suffering sigh, Severus glanced over the rocky terrain that would have to serve as his hideout in the meantime. He'd suffered through worse situations than this; his weariness was mostly due to the fact that his present circumstances were likely to be indicative of the kinds of situations he was bound to find himself in for many days to come._ Perhaps weeks, even months_... it had taken longer to find Hermione the last time, though of course there had been extenuating circumstances to complicate that search. He just hoped that this search might be at least _somewhat_ easier on him. The last one had taken enough out of him already; he was too young to look as world-worn as he did.

Before he settled down to wait, Severus turned the corner of the furthermost sea stack to get a good look at what would lie ahead of him later that evening. As his critical eyes scanned the area, memorizing the geography of the terrain, he caught a sudden movement in the far distance. He slunk back further behind the rock as he squinted at the moving figure, identifying it as a petite person. Female. _What would a lone female be doing on the beach in weather like this?_

Severus' mind worked rapidly as he watched the young woman skip down the sand dunes as she made her way toward the shoreline. She was too far away for him to make out any pertinent details, but it appeared as if she were lightly dressed. She couldn't be a tourist, then; no respectable witch would visit the beach on a day like this dressed as she was, which meant she must be residing nearby, and couldn't be bothered to put on more appropriate clothing. His heart fluttered erratically as he ignored the little hope in him that insisted that this description sounded familiar.

She had turned toward him, now, and was heading in his direction. Severus pulled back and leaned his head against the rock, gulping as his eyes flashed nervously. _No, no, no... stop this. It isn't her. It couldn't be her. You're insane. Look at her again. You're delusional. It's not her. Turn around... just look at her again. _

After a pathetically long delay, he turned around and looked at her again. She was moving rapidly, her stride determined. _Had she spotted him? Was she coming for him? _As much as every ounce of his reason wanted to insist otherwise, he couldn't deny that it looked sort of like her. Sort of _a lot _like her...

_Oh gods, what if it's really her? _He didn't know what to do. It was too soon; he couldn't see her now... not like this. He wasn't ready. He never expected this. This was completely absurd.

Forcing himself to look again, his third glance confirmed his wildest dream and his greatest terror: _it was Hermione. _She was wearing the jacket she'd worn when she'd danced for him; he'd know it anywhere. It was much too large on her small frame, and the bright patches on the sleeves stood out against the dismal backdrop in all their tacky glory. _What was she doing out there all by herself? Where was Remus? —the rest of the Order? What the fuck were those half-wits thinking, letting her walk so far alone and barely dressed? Where was she going? ...Had she seen him?_

Ducking behind the rock again, Severus swore under his breath as he struggled to come up with a plan. This was it. There was no going back now. If he turned and fled in the other direction, she'd surely spot him if she was reckless enough to traverse the boundary marker. His best chance was to slink as far back in the shadows as he could, and hope she didn't notice him. As he attempted to do just that, he scowled as he realized that there wasn't nearly enough coverage to prevent her from spotting him. He'd look like a complete fool if he tried. _Perhaps it doesn't matter; perhaps she already knows I'm here..._

But how? Recalling the psychic dreams that he was now certain Hermione had sent to him— whether knowingly or not— he wondered how strong the link was at her end. Maybe if he tried to scare her off by sending warning impressions her way, she'd turn back around.

Focusing on the old connection, Severus put everything he had into sending fearful emotions her way. _Go back... turn around... don't go any further... it's not safe... _

After waiting several moments, Severus peeked around the corner again to see if his plan worked. He noticed her hesitate slightly, her determined steps faltering a little before she pushed past her uncertainty. _She was getting so close now..._

Panicking, Severus tried again, practically shouting at her with his mind as he tried to discourage her progress. It was no use. Before he had a chance to take a steadying breath, he heard the approach of her footsteps as she traipsed over the rocks, tentatively heading straight for him. He could tell by her careful movements that she must not have seen him there, since she seemed too unsure of herself now. _Apparently she was just out for a stroll, after all_...

Sliding back further into the shadows, Severus prepared for the inevitable, his heart racing painfully fast. If he revealed himself now, he'd surely frighten her; she might even scream, and if Lupin was anywhere nearby his ears would catch the sound. It was too risky. He had to keep her quiet.

As soon as she moved within range, he reached out and grabbed her, silencing her as quick as he could by pressing his hand over her mouth. She struggled as he pulled her against him, and he hated himself for having to scare her like that. He hated himself even more when his body thrilled at the feel of her against him, so close again. He had to think straight. Keep a clear head. This was going to be hard enough as it was.

"_Don't scream,_" he told her, surprising himself with the harsh sound of his nervous voice. She was so tense, so completely vulnerable now. She knew that she was trapped. He could smell lavender in her hair.

Swallowing his anxiety as he allowed his grip around her to slacken, he carefully began to remove his hand from her mouth, hoping she wouldn't take the opportunity to call for help.

"_Please, don't scream,_" he begged, his voice thankfully returning to somewhat normal levels. When she didn't make any noise, he gently bid her to turn around, terrified of what he'd see in her eyes when she recognized him. _It wasn't supposed to be this way..._

As she looked up at him with an expression of complete disbelief, his heart sank as he took in the sight of her pretty face, wondering when it had become so precious; so dear to him. _Her... **her**... her! It was really her! ...Was this the last time he'd see her like this?_

Unable to tear his eyes away, Severus continued to stare besottedly at his heart's desire, completely transfixed. Her crushing beauty was both balm and bane to his bedraggled heart, soothing its needy arrhythmia while simultaneously contriving to tear it apart. Her presence was real; whole and immaculate. He simply beheld the truth of it, her distracting proximity momentarily allowing him to forget the letter that was burning a hole in his pocket.

...

* * *

><p><em>AN: I know, I know... we're at the same place we ended up last chapter (but, oh! how I do love these parallel storytelling structures...) — at least it was posted quickly? _


	44. Chapter 44

Chapter 44

.

_Hermione is here... Hermione is safe... Hermione..._

Severus felt a funny lurch in his stomach as his nervousness rose up again with sudden force, the crippling anxiety colliding with his happy relief and woozy excitement in a volatile emotional concoction that overwhelmed him entirely.

Hermione watched as his gaze went out of focus, staring at him in alarm as he wavered in place. _What's wrong with him?_

"Severus?" she asked tentatively, placing a steadying hand on his arm, "Are you alright?"

_She touched him! _It was too much. All of his exhaustion broke over him at once as her touch seemed to release him from survival mode, the safe, familiar gesture signifying an acceptance that was his undoing. He felt like he was going to cry. He felt like he was going to puke. Fortunately, neither occurred; instead, he fainted.

"Severus!" Hermione cried as his legs went limp and he collapsed to his knees, falling forward before she caught him awkwardly, his weight toppling her over as they landed gracelessly on the wet, pebbled ground.

'_Oh my god! What should I do? What should I do?' _Hermione thought frantically, unsure what had just happened. Severus was still breathing; at least there was that...

'_He's alive,' _Nina assured her, '_Christ! Look at him! What a mess..._'

'_Something's wrong; he's hurt!' _Hermione worried, _'I have to get help!'_

'_From who?' _Nina objected, _'You don't really think that lot back there are going to help him, do you?'_

'_Poppy would help him,' _Hermione insisted, _'They were friends; she said so!'_

'_Yes, 'were' being the operative term,' _Nina challenged. _'You can't be sure she won't turn against him, now...'_

'_But I have to take that chance if I want to help him! I can't just leave him here; what if the Death Eaters are after him?'_

'_How are we even going to get him back to the cottage?' _Nina argued, _'If you leave him alone and run for help, he might not be here when we get back.'_

'_Where would he go?' _Hermione questioned, skeptically.

'_Do you really want to take that chance and lose him again?' _Nina quietly entreated. Hermione looked at his tired face, studying it carefully as if each harsh contour was the most precious sight she'd ever laid eyes on. She really didn't want to take that chance.

'_Alright— I have an idea,' _she thought, reaching inside his coat to feel around for an inner pocket.

'_Yes! Now we're talking!' _Nina cheered, _'Never mind the coat; start with the slacks! I never did get a good look at that thing...'_

'_I'm not undressing him,' _Hermione huffed dismissively, _'I'm looking for this!' _she thought enthusiastically as she produced his wand from its hiding place.

'_What are you going to do with that?' _Nina questioned, her curiosity permeating their shared consciousness.

"_Mobilicorpus!" _Hermione incanted aloud, standing and backing off as Severus' wand readily accepted her magic; its dormant potency surged through her with renewed vigor as Severus' body lifted up, hovering a foot off the ground.

'_Ooooh, wicked...' _Nina thought appreciatively, her psychic reaction indicating that she was truly impressed. _'I didn't know we could do that...'_

Hermione vaguely registered Nina's repeated use of the inclusive pronoun, too intent on her goal to give it much thought. _She was using magic again... and it felt amazing..._

'_C'mon, then, get moving,' _Nina prodded, _'he doesn't look like he's getting any better dangling in the air like that...'_

"Right..." Resolutely fixing her features, Hermione used her spell to lift Severus across the rocky pass, stumbling a bit as she stepped down onto the soft sand again before quickly steadying her spell and sending her unconscious lover ahead of her as she made her way back toward Shell Cottage. Her heart was racing as the misty rain collected on her eyelashes, watching Severus' hovering form in disbelief as he floated creepily over the wet sand. She never anticipated that her beach-combing stroll would yield such a remarkable find... With rumbling giddiness, she silently thanked the ocean for finally delivering her dark man to her. Even looking as frightful as he did, he was certainly a fine sight for her sore, weepy eyes. _Severus is back!_

She just hoped that she wasn't carrying him straight to his doom... _What if Remus freaks out and tries to hurt him? Would she be able to protect him? _Severus' body dipped slightly as Hermione's concentration faltered, before she returned her attention to her spell. '_Maybe I should try to appeal to Poppy, first,' _she considered, _'I could hide him outside somewhere, and try to speak to her privately...'_

Hermione felt her resolve weaken as she approached the cottage, wondering if she'd made a terrible mistake by taking Severus here. '_What if he wakes up and thinks I betrayed him? ...What if he ends up in Azkaban? Would he ever forgive me?'_

'_We don't have to go through with this, you know,' _Nina pointed out, _'We could just hide him someplace and hope for the best...'_

'_No— that's not good enough,' _Hermione protested weakly. _'What if he's cursed? I can't let him die; not now... I have to help him...'_

Nina was disturbingly silent as Hermione considered the decision she was about to make, finally stowing Severus behind a tall sand dune near the cottage, then kissing his forehead nervously before hurrying to the back entryway. Summoning a look that she hoped would pass as casual, Hermione took a steadying breath before pushing through the back door, shivering as the warmth from the sitting room greeted her cold, damp body. Remus shot up from his place by the fire and darted toward the entryway, wand at the ready, a look of confused alarm on his face as he took in the unexpected sight of Hermione stopping short in front of the door. Bill was quick on Remus' heels, looking surprised as well when he saw who had managed to slip past the wards.

"Hermione? ...What are you doing over there?" Bill asked, lowering his wand.

"I just went out for a walk," Hermione replied lightly, eyeing Remus' wand uneasily before the man realized that he was still primed for attack. Remus lowered his wand as he frowned in confusion, taking a step toward her.

"We thought you were upstairs," Remus said accusingly, "...you snuck out, didn't you?"

"You were all preoccupied, so I didn't bother you," Hermione shrugged. "Anyways, I thought I wasn't a prisoner here... can't I come and go as I please?"

"No, you most certainly cannot," Remus answered irritably. "You know the risks. You put more than your own hide at stake when you behave like this."

"Remus, calm down," Poppy said gently, stepping around him. "I'm sure she didn't mean to cause any trouble. Next time, though," Poppy said, addressing Hermione, "perhaps you'll be good enough to let someone know when you go off on your own like that, hmm?"

"Of course," Hermione agreed lightly. "Poppy, can I have a word with you in private?" Hermione asked, causing Remus to narrow his eyes in suspicion.

"Oh — well of course you can, dear," Poppy answered as she shook off her surprise at the sudden request. "Would you like to go back upstairs?" she suggested.

Hermione nodded in response, looking up at Remus warily as she passed him, fully aware of his scrutiny as he tried to fathom her intentions. "Hold on... what's that smell?" Remus murmured, placing a hand at Hermione's shoulder to halt her progress. She froze under his touch, her eyes widening as he sniffed the air above her.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," she replied in a small voice, trying to move away from him.

"Like hell you don't," Remus muttered, taking both of her shoulders in his hands as he turned her to face him.

"Remus!" Poppy objected, looking worried as she watched him manhandle her patient.

"I won't ask a third time, Hermione; _what's. that. smell._"

"I just went for a walk!" she protested, struggling to pull away from him as he sniffed her over, his brows furrowing as he registered the mix of scents. "It was wet out; I got a little dirty..." she tried explaining.

"She smells of _him!_" Remus exclaimed, "She's been out with Snape!"

Bill, Fleur and Poppy all gasped as Remus' accusation rang out across the cozy space, their faces reflecting their complete shock at the idea.

"Snape is _here?_" Fleur gasped, "In Tinworth?!"

"He must have been!" Remus insisted, "She _reeks_ of him!"

"Remus, are you sure?" Poppy asked in alarm, looking between him and Hermione with wide eyes.

"Positive," Remus confirmed, "I'd know that stench anywhere. It's as dark as pitch. It's him, alright."

"I think he smells quite nice on a normal day," Hermione objected, her features turning defiant as she recognized the futility of her former pretense.

"It's true!" Fleur exclaimed, "She _has_ seen him!"

"Hermione, is he still here?" Bill asked urgently, placing comforting hands on his wife's shoulders. Hermione just pursed her lips in response as she tried to decide what to do, looking between the four faces nervously.

Rather than waiting for her reply, Remus snarled and ran out the back door, wand drawn as he scanned the perimeter, listening carefully as he sniffed the damp air. Hermione shouted in vain as Remus took off in the direction of the sand dune she'd hidden Severus behind, running after him as fast as she could as the others followed, only Poppy refraining from wielding a wand defensively.

"_Don't hurt him!" _Hermione cried as Remus came to an abrupt halt in front of Severus' unconscious form, looking down at the dark man warily as he confirmed that he wasn't an immediate threat. _What happened to him?_ Behind him, Hermione had drawn Snape's wand and was pointing it at Remus' back, ready to defend her unconscious lover if need be.

"Don't you dare hurt him, Remus," Hermione warned, her voice strong, if not on the verge of hysterical. Remus turned in surprise to find her facing him down with a wand. He raised his brows as he assessed her stance, deciding that she meant business.

"Easy, Hermione," he replied, holding up a placating hand. "Don't do anything foolish. I can easily overpower you if I have to..."

"Try me," Hermione challenged, her eyes hard as her posture stiffened. "I won't let you hurt him."

Remus' face turned thoughtful as he realized just how defensive she was willing to be for the Dark wizard. _Perhaps Poppy was right, after all; maybe she really does love him..._

"I won't hurt an unarmed man, Hermione," Remus assured her. "I just need to make sure he's not a threat to us. You can lower that wand," he suggested, as he did the same.

Bill approached carefully from the rear, exchanging a glance with Remus as he confirmed that the situation was under control. Nodding to his wife, Bill gestured for Fleur and Poppy to step forward as they approached the strange scene, looking concerned as they took in the sight of the dark figure crumpled in the sand.

"What's wrong with him?" Fleur asked quietly, as Poppy produced her wand to cast a diagnostic charm.

"Exhaustion," she declared, tutting at the results as they flared in front of her. "Complete and utter exhaustion. He's nearly drained his magical reserves, and he's been sleep deprived for over a week... it looks as if he's barely eaten a thing in all that time, either."

"Oh, Severus," Hermione whispered, kneeling beside him to stroke a hand through his unwashed hair. The others looked on as she regarded him tenderly, tears forming in her eyes as she touched him gently. Nobody said anything for a long beat as they took in the surprising sight.

"Perhaps we should take him inside?" Fleur softly suggested, looking to her husband imploringly. Everyone looked at Remus, then; apparently the decision was down to him.

With a sigh of defeat, Remus realized that he couldn't leave the unconscious man lying out in the rain all afternoon.

"Let's just hope he was smart enough to know better than to Apparate himself here, or else this place is going to be swarming with Death Eaters," Remus muttered. "That mark on his arm is a homing beacon. If they know he's come here, they'll be on him in no time."

"He was on the other side of the boundary marker when I came across him," Hermione explained. "I Mobilicorpus'd him over here after he collapsed."

"What were you doing past the marker?" Bill queried, looking at her disapprovingly. "We told you it wasn't safe to leave the beach."

"I told you, I went for a walk," Hermione answered crossly.

"Oh, never mind all that," Poppy huffed, as Bill gave Hermione a deprecating glance. "Let's stop hovering around like stunned pixies and get this man inside! He needs a few strong potions to fix him up, at the very least... it's a good thing I came prepared..."

Hermione exchanged a small smile with the mediwitch as she bustled into action, taking over with a more refined Mobilicorpus as she sent the unconscious patient towards the cottage.

"A hot bath wouldn't be a bad idea, either," Fleur suggested, sniffing disdainfully as the man's ripe scent wafted in her direction.

As the women followed after the suspended body, Bill and Remus exchanged a glance as they watched the unlikely procession depart. "What do you think, Remus?" Bill asked, shaking his head, "Is this a good idea?"

"Of course it's not," Remus muttered. "It's a terrible idea. But good luck convincing those three."

"What should we do?" Bill asked, following along beside Remus as he grudgingly followed after the women.

"Let's just keep a close eye on him for now," Remus sighed. "When he wakes up, he'll have some explaining to do, I'll tell you that much."

"But why did he come here? Why would he, when he knows how dangerous it is for him? He doesn't look like he's had an easy go of it..."

"I don't know, Bill," Remus murmured thoughtfully, "But I intend to find out."

...

"Shouldn't you revive him first?" Hermione asked nervously as Poppy prepared Severus for a bath, magicking his clothes off piece by piece as Fleur held a laundry basket to direct them into, making a disgusted face as the filthy clothes settled in place.

"Oh, I really don't think that would be such a good idea, do you?" Poppy chided. "Besides; what he needs now is a good, long rest. I gave him a draught that should keep him out until tomorrow, if he's as exhausted as I think he is. He always has been reckless about his health," the mediwitch tutted.

"I'm sure Remus will want to keep him sedated anyways," Fleur pointed out. "Until he knows more about the situation, he won't want Snape walking around here, fully conscious..."

"He wouldn't hurt anybody," Hermione insisted. "Just _look_ at him! Does he look like a threat to you?"

"That man looks like a lot of things," Fleur huffed indignantly, "none of which I'd be pleased to welcome into my home."

With a frown, Hermione looked at the half-conscious man again and decided that Fleur might have a point. "He needs a shave," she said quietly. "He normally uses his wand to do it."

"You're not getting that wand back from Remus, if that's what you're thinking," Poppy warned her as she magicked off Severus' shirt, preparing to remove his trousers.

"I know that," Hermione said irritably, "but he looks dreadful with all that stubble... can't we do something about it?"

"There is a spare razor in one of the bathroom drawers," Fleur remarked. "You can use that, if you want."

"Me?" Hermione asked meekly, "but I've never shaved a man's face before..."

"Neither have I, but it can't be that difficult," Fleur replied as she caught the floating trousers in her basket.

Hermione gulped nervously as she looked back at Severus with wide eyes, before noticing that Poppy was watching her with a raised brow.

"I'm going to remove his shorts, now," she warned, suppressing a smile as Hermione inhaled sharply and spun around, then blushed as she caught sight of the garment floating past her.

"I thought you've seen him naked before?" Fleur pointed out, "Why are you blushing?"

"Oh, leave her alone," Poppy chided, levitating the naked man into the prepared tub of soapy water. "It's all right, dear, you can turn around now," she told Hermione, holding out a clean flannel for Hermione to use. "Why don't you start on the upper region, while I work on the lower. A vigorous scrubbing is what he needs."

Hermione hesitated before approaching the tub, irrationally concerned that Severus would wake up at any moment and go berserk.

"He's no threat to us, remember?" Fleur teased, smirking as she left the room to carry the basket downstairs.

...

"Are those his clothes?" Remus asked as Fleur descended the stairs, heading for the laundry room.

"Yes... I don't know if I ought to try soaking them, or if it would be better just to Evanesco them altogether," she sighed. "I'm not looking forward to cleaning Snape's dirty underwear."

"I need to check his pockets," Remus said, stepping toward her to take the basket. "If he's been traveling, he's probably got plenty of supplies shrunk down and squirreled away in there. There might be something that'll tell us more about what he's really been up to."

"They're all yours," Fleur replied as she handed over the basket gratefully, "just don't rifle through them in here; take them outside for that."

Remus obligingly granted her request, carrying the basket out onto the front patio as Bill followed. He handed the trousers over to Bill, while taking up the coat to start sorting through, himself. The two busied themselves emptying out item after item, canceling their reduction charms as all sorts of odds and ends started crowding the floorboards.

"Well, you gotta hand it to him," Bill remarked, "—the guy is certainly prepared for anything." Remus made a noise of assent as he enlarged a small potions box, sifting through the little bottles discriminately as he checked for Dark substances.

"What do you suppose he needs all this Horklump juice for?" Bill asked as he unstoppered a large jar, sniffing it to verify its contents.

"Who knows. The man's a maniac," Remus muttered, setting aside the potions box as he withdrew a little silver box of bottled memories. "I'm going to need a pensieve; it looks like Snape's been cataloguing certain memories here... these might be very interesting..."

"Those might be private," Bill intimated as he set down the jar, glancing worriedly at the silver box.

"All the more reason to examine them," Remus replied. "Everything about that man is 'private,' it seems. We need to start sorting out as much of it as we can if we're ever going to figure out what he's really up to. You heard what Poppy said; there's a lot more to this than we realized. Whatever's going on between him and Hermione has officially become Order business, at least until we get to the bottom of it."

"Then you'll be interested in this," Bill inferred with a troubled expression as he re-sized a letter with Hermione's name written in a well-known, spiky script on the outside. He held it up for Remus to see, the two exchanging an awkward look as they considered opening the private missive. "There's a notebook here, too," Bill added, flipping through the heavy black, leather-bound volume. "...It looks like it's full of notes on Muggle nightclubs, names and dates... bus schedules... that sort of thing."

"Perfect," Remus nodded, "I'll go through that, first."

"What about the letter?" Bill asked, "Shouldn't we give it to Hermione?"

Remus looked thoughtful as he glanced at the neatly-folded piece of sealed stationary, flipping it over in his hands as he tried to decide what to do about it.

"No, Bill," he sighed, "I think I'm going to have to open it, first. I'm sorry to do it, but I think it is necessary."

"Do you think it's a love letter?" Bill asked quietly.

Remus glanced warily at the sinister letter before looking to Bill with eyes that said he wasn't too keen on having to speculate about that matter. The junior Order member made a face of commiseration as he watched Remus pocket the letter, before turning back to his task. "I think there's nothing else here but a bunch of maps and some Muggle currency," he started saying, right before he spotted a tiny, balled-up paper sack in the corner of a hip pocket. "Hold on... here's something else..."

Remus watched as Bill re-sized the paper sack, regarding it curiously as Bill opened it and looked inside, rifling through it before looking up at Remus with a funny face.

"Well? What's in there?" Remus pressed, resting his arm on his bent knee as he squatted beside his puzzled friend.

By way of replying, Bill reached in and pulled out the little denim dress that he found bunched up inside, holding it up by both straps as he looked it over in confusion, looking to Remus for an answer. Remus had none; he looked just as confused as Bill by the surprising find. "There's more," Bill murmured in a strange voice as he handed the dress over to Remus, who took it uncomfortably and frowned as Bill reached into the sack and pulled out a gold tube of lipstick. Remus raised an eyebrow as Bill pulled off the cap, awkwardly fidgeting with the foreign gadget before realizing that the base was meant to be twisted. His mouth went slack as he watched the little dark red tip spiral up from its sheath.

"That's completely bizarre," Remus murmured, wondering why Snape was carrying such things around with him.

"Completely," Bill agreed. "That color is all wrong for him."

Remus glanced up quizzically at Bill's strange remark, smirking ruefully when he registered the humor. "Is that it, then?"

"Yeah, that's all I could find. What about on your side?" Bill inquired as he dropped the left side of the coat.

"I don't think there's anything else in here but food; I'm detecting a few preservation charms, and..." Remus paused as he reviewed the remaining contents of Snape's right side pocket, blinking as he detected another charm in place. "There's something here with a _Fragilis_ charm on it," he mentioned as he pulled out the object, canceling the overlying protective charm before resizing it.

"What's that?" Bill asked as Remus held up the large, flat, square-shaped object that materialized. Checking out the front of it, he cocked his head as he regarded the image of the afroed man with many arms, surrounded by diminishing cobras and godlike figures.

Remus tilted the object sideways, catching the heavy black disk that slipped out from the colorful casing. It had a nice shine to it, and was covered in hundreds of tiny raised lines that defined the surface like a fingerprint.

"I know what this is," Remus said knowingly, his eyelids heavy as he looked down at it with a lofty expression. "It's a Muggle music device. It plays music."

"That's a musical instrument? ...How does it work?"

"No, not an instrument; a _device... _a contraption, you know? — some kind of gizmo. I'm not sure how it works... there's probably a button somewhere."

"Or a switch," Bill pointed out helpfully as Remus flipped the disk over, remembering his father's lessons on Muggle paraphernalia, "—sometimes Muggle things have switches. ...Who is that guy on the front? He looks like a Dark wizard..."

"All it says is, 'the jimi hendrix experience — axis: bold as love'... Hmm. I don't see a switch, either. Oh, well," Remus sighed. "I probably broke it, somehow. Snape placed a pretty sensitive charm over it, and I had to break that to enlarge it." Remus frowned thoughtfully as he slid the disk back in its sleeve, peering at the cover art. "...I've never heard of this 'Jimi Hendrix' fellow. It's odd that Severus listens to Muggle music, isn't it?"

"Very odd," Bill answered seriously. "I don't know about you... but now that I've sorted through his things, I feel like the guy is even more of a mystery to me."

"Well, hopefully those bottled memories, the notebook and letter will tell us some more," Remus sighed as he moved to stand up, brushing off his clothes. "I think perhaps I'll read the letter privately first, to get a sense of it."

"Good idea," Bill agreed. "I'd rather not read that unless it's really necessary. I wouldn't feel safe around here after reading Snape's private correspondence... especially now that I'm occupying the same house as him..."

"This will only be temporary," Remus promised. "I think I'm going to have to inform Minerva and Kingsley about this, but first I want to go over everything before I report to them."

"Aren't you going to interrogate Snape, first?"

"Yes. Unfortunately, that will probably be necessary..." Remus replied, sighing heavily. The prospect of having a long talk with Severus held no appeal to him whatsoever, especially since it would be taking place just after he'd rifled through the man's personal notebook, memories, and an ominous letter that might possibly be romantic in nature. No; Remus was not looking forward to this task at all.

...

"I'll just go and see if Fleur needs any help preparing the other guest room," Poppy murmured as she watched Hermione kneel beside the tub with some shaving cream and the woman's razor Fleur had lent her. The girl seemed nervous enough about her task already, and Poppy figured that it would be helpful if she had some privacy. She was now fully convinced that Hermione was unequivocally in love with the dark man. Observing her now, as she reverently began to apply the lather to his scruffy face, Poppy could clearly see the proof of her feelings for him. She wasn't sure when she'd last witnessed anything quite as intimate as the sight of Hermione Granger focusing her attention on shaving the haggard face of Severus Snape, and as a mediwitch she was no stranger to intimacy. This was a moment that would leave a lasting impression.

As the mediwitch quietly closed the bathroom door behind her, Hermione lifted the razor and scrutinized Severus' face, trying to figure out the best way to go about it. She finally pressed her fingertips gently against his soapy skin, stretching it taught as she carefully slid the razor down along with the grain. Even Nina was silent, her usual background commentary notably absent as Hermione concentrated, the soft scraping sound of the razor amplified in the quiet space.

As Hermione became more confident and fell into a practiced rhythm, she found a certain contentment in the act. She liked caring for Severus in this way; she felt close to him in a sense that was entirely new to her and greatly heartwarming. She wondered if he'd ever allow her to tend to him like this when he was conscious.

'_What were you doing, coming here like this?' _Hermione wondered, glancing at his closed eyes. _Had he really come back for her? What did he intend to do once he'd found her? _

She wanted to imagine that this little simulacrum of domesticity could potentially be more than just a fantasy; that there might actually be a possible future in store for the two of them— one in which she could really touch him like this and know that it was welcome. _Could she be that kind of woman?... _All she knew with any certainty was that she felt more alive right now— in the magic of this strange moment— than she had in ages. _It's a rather lovely thing, to be of use to someone you care about... _And she did care about him. More, perhaps, than she'd ever cared about anyone; though she supposed it was an altogether new way of caring...

But what about him? Hermione thought that perhaps she could, indeed, be the kind of woman that cherished her lover; _a nurturer. _Severus, however... _could he be that kind of man? — The kind to allow a woman to assume such a role in his life? _It seemed to go against everything she had once thought about the man, though she conceded that everything she thought she knew about him had recently been turned upside down. With an odd twist in her belly, she realized that she didn't actually know that much about who he really was. She had a more informed impression of him now, of course, after what they had been through... but there was still a substantial cloak of mystery about him. Foremost in her mind was the fact that he'd killed Dumbledore for reasons she had yet to fathom, but it was even more than that; she wondered if she'd ever truly know just who Severus Snape really was. Potions Master; Death Eater; Order member; Head of Slytherin House; bane of Harry's existence; protector; lover; killer; friend... it was a complicated tangle of personas that she hadn't managed to decipher yet.

'_You're not so simple yourself, you know,' _Nina suddenly spoke up, reminding her of her own complicated persona. _'Maybe that makes Severus exactly the right bloke for us, huh? Who else would put up with us three?'_

_...Three? Did Nina say 'three'? ...Who was the third?_

'_I don't understand; there's only the two of us...'_

'_Not exactly,' _Nina corrected. _'I dreamt about the other one, once... remember when Severus told you that you'd managed to communicate with him through the link while unconscious? That wasn't necessarily 'you' he was speaking with, and it certainly wasn't me...'_

Hermione paled as she suddenly remembered that conversation, which seemed so distant now. Severus had, indeed, mentioned speaking with another version of her; at the time, she'd been so overwhelmed that she somehow managed to overlook the concept, entirely... _Were there memories of hers that were still tucked away somewhere? Why hadn't these returned, yet?_

'_You should ask Severus about her,' _Nina suggested. _'I think he'll be able to tell us more.'_

Hermione furrowed her brows in concern as she wiped the last traces of soap off of Severus' freshly-shaven face, wondering which was the greater mystery: his true identity, or her own. Perhaps she'd have to figure that one out before she had any real chance of connecting with him; she just hoped that she'd actually get a chance to try...

...


	45. Chapter 45

Chapter 45

.

Poor Remus

.

"_But you said you'd have it by Monday!_" Remus growled, his usually mild temper slipping as his mounting frustrations were exacerbated by the waxing moon, already approaching the first quarter phase.

"I said I'd _try, _Lupin!" Horace protested, his overtaxed nerves set even further on edge in the presence of the unstable werewolf. "You must understand how difficult it is right now to procure ingredients; this is what allegiance to Dumbledore has cost me! If I had gone over, I'd have your aconite, and plenty of it— do you have any idea what I was offered for my services? what You-Know-Who would have paid to recruit a brewer of my expertise?— but I refused! And now you criticize me? Now, when I've been forced into conditions so low that I can't even procure a fresh crop of aconite without drawing suspicion? _I must be cautious_—"

"You're being _paranoid_, Slughorn, and you've no idea what it's costing me!"

"One can't be too careful in such times as these," the Potions Master quietly argued. "I really did try, Lupin. But the only supplier whom I could trust was unable to gather the fresh plant in time, after one of his family members was taken into custody... He offered me plenty of the dried root, but I need the fresh plant to brew it correctly..."

"You should have warned me," Remus groaned, his words slightly muffled by the hands pulling at his tense features. "I might have been able to locate the aconite for you in time, but now it's too late!"

"You still have a week before the full moon," Horace tried, his poor attempt at consolation sounding weak even to his own ears, "—time enough to make arrangements for the transformation, I should think?"

"You don't understand," Remus muttered, sinking into the chair across from where Slughorn was anxiously standing by, "I have the weight of the bloody world on my shoulders right now," he confessed miserably as he stared at the carpet between his feet. "I'm responsible for a third of the Order, and my third is particularly heavy at the moment. My pregnant wife is in her third trimester. The damned moon is catching up with me, already three fourths of the way towards fullness..."

"It sounds as if the number three is not particularly lucky for you," Horace remarked as he tentatively sat down in the opposite chair. "Do you suppose it's significant?"

Remus only snorted in response, thinking of the third member of the Golden Trio who was further adding to his burden at the moment, though he daren't mention her to the dubiously loyal Slytherin. Had he known of her three-way personality split, he might have been more convinced of the number's significance.

"What am I going to do...?" Remus sighed, more to himself than to his companion as he hung his head in defeat.

"I could always offer you a calming draught, if you think it would help?" Horace tried, reluctantly willing to give up one of his precious tinctures for the downtrodden fellow, who might need it even more than he did.

"It wouldn't," Remus sullenly contradicted. "I need to keep my faculties sharp right now. There's too much riding on my discernment to take any risks, even for the sake of a little peace."

Horace regarded the man with pity as he tried to think of something to say in reply, but came up short. After an uncomfortable pause, Remus sighed again and pulled his tired body out of the cushy armchair.

"I really am sorry about this, Lupin," Horace pressed. "I'll keep trying; hopefully I'll have the potion ready for you next month. If you do manage to locate a store of fresh aconite before I do, be sure that it was harvested by the light of next week's full moon, and that it's kept under sturdy preservation. There can be no room for error with such a sensitive potion, you know."

Remus nodded despondently as he mumbled his goodbye, the crack of his Disapparation leaving a heavy pall over the dimly lit room as Horace shuffled over to his liquor cart to fix himself a steadying drink. As he drank down the first gulp, he thought of his freshly departed visitor and felt thankful that— despite the unfortunate circumstances that had recently upended his life— at least he wasn't as bad off as some poor sods.

...

"How is she?" Remus asked his mother in-law as he stepped into the Tonks' small foyer, hanging his coat on a hook before tugging at the laces of his boots.

"Concerned about you," Andromeda answered, her arms crossed anxiously as she stepped toward her son in-law. "Did you get the wolfsbane?" she asked quietly.

Remus shook his head as he glanced up guiltily, feeling even more of a failure than usual in the woman's presence. Though she had accepted him into her family with as much warmth as her generous disposition allowed her, Remus still knew that the woman regretted her daughter's choice to marry him. Things were even more strained between the werewolf and his mother in-law than they had been at the beginning, ever since Remus had temporarily abandoned his pregnant wife in a crisis, overcome with guilt over marrying her in the first place. Aside from his pressing reservations about their age difference and the difficulty he'd have supporting her, Remus had been most terrified that he was a danger to Nymphadora, and was convinced that his unborn son would inherit his lycanthropy. He would always feel unworthy of her, and felt that her mother knew this just as well as he did.

"Oh, dear..." Andromeda sighed, "I was afraid that Slughorn would let us down sooner or later. He always has put his own interests first."

"I'm sorry, Andromeda," Remus apologized as he pulled off his wet boots, the words laden with meaning that went beyond the surface issue. "...I hoped it wouldn't come to this, but you know what it means."

The older woman nodded solemnly as Remus looked to her in contrition, feeling every bit the inadequate husband in the woman's presence. He'd have to leave his wife again — the sooner the better, since the oncoming effects of the waxing moon would make him increasingly difficult to live with as it entered the gibbous phase. That kind of negative energy would be toxic enough on any marriage, let alone one as strained as his. Nymphadora was too far-gone in her pregnancy to have to put up with an erratically hormonal werewolf for a full week, no matter how much she loved him.

"I have some work to do first, but I'll start packing later this evening. I might stay with Bill and Fleur for a few days until I can secure a safe place to undergo the transformation."

"Wouldn't Kingsley be able to accommodate you again?" Andromeda asked, remembering the last time Remus had to transform without the stabilizing effects of the wolfsbane potion.

"It's not safe enough to use the Aurory's facilities right now," Remus pointed out. "Kingsley himself is under constant surveillance."

"Of course; I should have realized," Andromeda murmured absently. "I'm not thinking clearly right now, Remus," she sighed, shaking her head as she turned to lead him into the sitting room. "Dora's been going through a rough time today, and I've been quite distracted after hearing the latest news on the wireless."

"Oh gods... did something happen to Ted?" Remus asked lowly, fearing the worst for his father in-law, who had gone on the run after refusing to register with the Muggle-Born Registration Commission. The family had been on pins and needles every time they listened to the list of recent casualties reported over the Wizarding Wireless, morbidly expecting to hear the patriarch's name. They hadn't heard from him in weeks.

"We haven't heard anything about Ted, but that goblin, Gornuk, was reported as having been killed by snatchers. Gornuk was one of the fugitives Ted was traveling with," Andromeda mentioned shakily. "I know it doesn't necessarily mean that anything has happened to Ted," she started saying, her voice nearly a whisper as she attempted to keep her fragile emotions steady, "but, Remus... I have the most terrible feeling..."

As his mother in-law started losing her composure, Remus quickly rushed to her side, pulling her into a fierce hug as she broke down quietly against the tall man's shoulder. Remus gulped back his own emotional response to the woman's vulnerability; she was such a figure of strength that it was difficult to see her in such a state.

"I'm so sorry, Angie," Remus whispered harshly as he held on to her, using her nickname affectionately. She sniffed a few times as she managed to suppress her sobs, rubbing the tears from her eyes as she pulled back to right herself.

"Thank you, Remus," she said quietly as she managed to pull herself together. "I know that none of this is your fault," she mentioned. "You're doing your best. Nobody doubts that."

"I just wish it were good enough," he replied softly as he looked down at the floor, hating himself for adding to the poor woman's grief. Her husband was likely dead, and Remus was about to leave her all alone to care for his pregnant wife while he succumbed to the horror of his affliction.

"I'll leave you and Dora alone while you explain things to her," Andromeda said as she turned distractedly toward the kitchen, a faraway look haunting her features. "Tea will be ready when you come back downstairs," she mentioned, assuming Remus would want to conduct whatever work he had to do in the privacy of Ted's study.

"Thank you, Angie," Remus murmured, reluctantly heading toward the stairs to tell his wife the bad news. More than anything else, he hated having to disappoint her. It seemed that it was all he was capable of doing these days.

...

As Remus slumped into the large, mahogany leather chair behind the desk in Ted's study, he tried not to think about anything other the importance of his present task. He couldn't let the drama of his personal life influence his judgement against Snape, though he realized that it would be difficult to extricate the emotional baggage of his own affairs from this particular endeavor.

Even though he'd never liked the man, he'd felt sympathetic toward him in the past, and had once held a certain respect for him. Though he knew that Snape would always resent him for being one of the infamous Marauders that had been hell-bent on terrorizing the awkward, antisocial Slytherin in their misspent youth, Remus himself had never actively participated in the bullying. It was often a point of contention between the mild-mannered Gryffindor and his rambunctious companions, most notably Sirius, who had usually been the instigator in plots against Snape, which James was only too eager to go along with. Remus had always regretted his cowardice, too afraid to stand up against his friends in order to do the right thing by defending the disadvantaged wizard. Even though he'd never expect Snape to thank him for it, he had truly wanted to help the poor chap.

His sympathy had extended into adulthood when Snape had been initiated into the Order during the onset of the second war, and had found himself the odd man out once again. The antipathy toward the dark man had been palpable during the first series of Order meetings involving the spy— and it was only after Snape had left the room that Remus would rise to his defense— but nonetheless, he had supported Dumbledore's decision to include Snape. He knew that the Headmaster would never recklessly endanger his students by inviting a dangerous Death Eater onto his staff, and said as much when the appointment was repeatedly brought into question.

Remus' faith in Snape had taken a serious blow after Dumbledore's death, though it had never been completely snuffed out. Despite his own outrage over the incident, he had taken the role of Devil's advocate during the tense meetings in which Snape's motives were brought under severe scrutiny, struggling to keep the others from hastily assuming that said motives were as straightforward as many had interpreted them to be. The man was, after all, a consummate Slytherin; it simply didn't stand to reason that he would kill Albus in a fit of pique. Some had claimed that Snape had been acting under orders from his true master, and had finally shown his true colors in the act. Though somewhat more convincing, this scenario also seemed unlikely since the timing was so bizarre. _Why wait until that moment to strike? Why hadn't Dumbledore been able to defend himself against the attack? _...It simply didn't add up; at least not in Remus' mind.

The mounting accusations against Snape had ranged from the somewhat plausible to the downright disturbing as everyone tried to piece together what little they knew of him, though most of that knowledge was extremely biased, and dodgy at best. Remus had largely ignored the worst of these; that was until he had finally caught up with the elusive wizard, discovering him in a shocking state of dishabille with the missing girl, and all of Remus' generous inclinations had come crashing down under the weight of the visible evidence. It seemed that Snape really was a perverted maniac after all, and had been lusting after the girl he swore to protect. _His own student. A girl less than half his age. Sweet little Hermione Granger: corrupted beyond imagination by that despicable, greasy bastard._ It had struck home harder than Remus might have anticipated.

Part of him already knew why he was so upset by the idea. He had avoided thinking about it ever since, but as he sat at the desk with Snape's private belongings scattered in front of him, he forced himself to confront his own shadow. _Snape wasn't all that different from him_. Though he still wasn't aware of the precise circumstances leading up to Snape's apparent infatuation with the girl, he could hazard a guess. She was something he knew he should never mess with; something good and whole; something to be protected and revered — perhaps admired from a distance, but never touched. His own wife had been such a girl: considerably younger than he, all brightness and vivacity with a sweet nature that drew him in with her unwavering acceptance of his many flaws, graciously overlooking even his degrading affliction. She hadn't cared that he was a werewolf; hadn't cared that he was capable of hurting her like he had hurt others. She hadn't cared that he was too old for her; hadn't cared that he was so poor that he could barely support himself. She was blind to his flaws, given over to that submissive kind of enduring love that often consumes the pure of heart. She wanted him despite his deficiencies; _loved_ him against all reason and better judgement. He'd resisted her with as much willpower as he could summon against such an indomitable force, but had ultimately succumbed. He'd married the girl after all, though he knew that he ought to have spared her from such a fate. Now she was pregnant with his child, and he was scared to death that he might have recklessly brought another werewolf into the world.

Though he knew that it wasn't quite the same thing, he couldn't avoid the comparison between Snape and himself. Snape was a Death Eater; a vicious killer. Even if by some odd twist it turned out that Snape really was loyal to the cause, the fact remained that he was essentially as Dark as sin. He'd reeked of Dark magic since he was a young boy, and now he bore the Darkest mark known to Wizardkind. It would always taint him, and, by extension, anyone he associated with. He was not right at all for Hermione. He was far too Dark; far too old, too ugly... he was incredibly dangerous, a marked man in more than one sense of the word. No matter what the circumstances, any union between them would be ignoble and infinitely sordid. Snape must have realized as much, but he had acted on his lesser impulses, regardless. It was utterly contemptible.

With a long-suffering sigh, Remus glanced over the objects in front of him, wondering where to begin. He hadn't managed to obtain a pensieve yet, so the bottled memories would have to wait. That left the notebook and the letter. Averting his glance from the latter (as it made him very uncomfortable), he took up the notebook and began flipping through it page by page, scanning the extensive yet concise details of Snape's relentless pursuit of Hermione. He'd known that the man had hunted her with a vengeance, though he'd never fully appreciated what lengths he'd gone through until this moment. As he took in the details of all the sleazy venues and intermediaries Snape had investigated along the way, Remus realized why the man had looked so wasted whenever he'd returned to the U.K. to report back to Dumbledore. He recalled Snape's presence at a few Order meetings, remembering how he had seemed to further deteriorate with each return. He'd thought it unusual at the time, wondering why the man pushed himself so hard even when Dumbledore urged him otherwise. As he read deeper, he thought that this bit of circumstantial evidence required further consideration.

Eventually he reached the part in the notebook where Snape had stopped recording the details of his search, and began taking notes on Hermione's condition. Remus' attention was fully engrossed in these notations as he pored over the scribbled theories and postulations, not realizing until this moment just how extensive Hermione's condition went. He'd known that her Obliviation hadn't been fully corrected (and Poppy had shed further light on the subject), though he now understood that there were complex psychological elements involved that hadn't occurred to him before. This news was strikingly revelatory, putting much of her recent behavior into perspective.

As he read further, Remus encountered notes in which Snape's meaning became frustratingly vague as he apparently skirted around the truth of certain matters. _What does he mean when he writes, "woken by Nina; no more reverse Muffliato"? _...or even more perplexing: _What's all this about "energy at the grotto"? Why does he write that he "lost control; fortunate interruption prevented untimely fulfillment"? Is he talking about fulfilling her psychological integration? Why would it be "untimely"...? Or does he mean something else?_

Deciding that it was useless trying to decode these oblique statements, Remus diligently read on. It wasn't until several pages further in that he came across the notes on the chastity spell, his breath catching as certain previously confusing aspects started to come together with surprising clarity. He had been puzzled when he'd read the heavily scrawled, one-line entry which read: "_**Virgin Whore was LITERAL.**_", but now he understood. Hermione had been a virgin. _All that time_. The implications were staggering...

More staggering still was the implication that Snape had been the one whose name Hermione had invoked when the spell was activated, indicating that she had been in love with him all along. It was beyond comprehension, but there was no other explanation. Unless Snape had doctored the notes— which seemed rather unlikely considering their personal nature, their extensive consistency, and the fact that they had been taken off him without his consent— these scribblings suggested not only that Snape had been legitimately committed to Hermione's recovery, but that Hermione might not have been coerced into anything, after all... Indeed, it almost read as if Snape was reluctant to allow anything untoward to happen between the two of them, and had taken pains to circumvent the logical conclusion suggested by the chastity spell. However that issue had been resolved (and it must have been, since Remus had no doubt that the pair had been engaged in sexual activity prior to his arrival), Remus could only guess, since the notes ended there. Obviously, Remus' interruption had been the cause of the break.

What followed next in the heavy black book was immensely telling. Snape had begun scribbling out a rough travel plan, jotting down relevant details haphazardly as he struggled to get back to Hermione. Anyone could see just from the penmanship alone that the man had undergone a change for the worse between the time she was taken and the time he spent trying to get her back. His plan was sound enough, though no person in their right mind would ever attempt such stunts as the long-distance Apparations that Snape had managed to pull off. It was something of a miracle that he hadn't been splinched...

Then, after a few blank pages, was a final entry. A draft of a letter to Hermione. Snape had scratched lines through his initial openings, finally settling on simply addressing the recipient by her given name rather than by any of the more flowery endearments that he'd entertained. Though he broke out in a nervous sweat as he started reading the private words, Remus was unable to avert his attention from the surprising prose. It was like watching a terrible accident in slow motion: full of dread and anxiety, coupled with the morbid compulsion to not look away lest you miss something spectacular. These were Snape's private thoughts, unfiltered by his usual mass of inhibitions and mostly unexpurgated. Remus realized that this initial draft probably differed from that which sat neatly folded on the desk across from him, but its unfinalized, exposed rawness made it all the more compelling over whatever alternate version Snape had composed. There were portions where words were crossed out and corrected; sometimes full sentences were slashed through, though still legible, revealing the man's uncertainties and lack of direction. There was a stream-of-consciousness style to it that Remus would never have expected, knowing only the excessive formalism that Snape had always presented. He never would have suspected that the man was capable of writing such a genuine letter, though the dark sense of foreboding which saturated the prose was familiar enough. He knew that this was no Slytherin tactic at seduction; one would have to be completely mad to be seduced by such a letter. Though Hermione's sanity was still questionable, he doubted that she'd ever be ensnared by such a missive. She might even be put off by it, which it seemed was Snape's intention, after all... This pessimistic, regretful attitude was not at all what Remus had expected to find.

Remus sighed as he closed the notebook, his head swimming with all the recently learned information. Though there might be some significant differences between the final draft and that which he'd just read, Remus felt (with some relief) that he didn't need to open the letter after all. He'd learned far more than he'd set out to, already. He'd been wrong about Snape, at least in this most crucial way; there was much more going on than he realized, and now he'd truly gotten himself tangled up in it. Whether he liked it or not, he was obligated to use this information responsibly. His conscience would never allow him to do otherwise. Before he could do anything else about it, he'd have to have a real heart to heart with Severus Snape.

...

* * *

><p><em>AN: Are you Remus haters lowering your weapons, yet? I hope this puts the guy in a more sympathetic light, though I know that his actions have been frustrating (I actually like this character a lot, despite how he's been presented in earlier chapters)._

_Just FYI, I'll be entertaining a tiny house full of guests for the next week and a half, which means that updates will be temporarily on hold. My usual solitude affords me plenty of time to write, but obligatory social interaction is much too distracting to allow me any such leeway, now... I am coming back, though, and with exciting developments in store! As always, thanks for your reviews and faves — you guys have been very encouraging!_


	46. Chapter 46

_**A/N: **__Quick note before I resume: I recently encountered a story by one of my followers which directly ripped off entire paragraphs from chapter 39 of WTW. This is not cool! This story has become very important to me, and it's devastating to think that people would blatantly plagiarize my work. I've begun reading up on copyright law, but could use some help in this department. If anyone has experience with this kind of sorry business and can offer helpful advice, I'm all ears. _

_(I guess I've finally "made it," huh?)..._

* * *

><p><em>.<br>_

Chapter 46

.

"Is he awake yet?" Remus asked as he hung his coat on a hook, trying to downplay his nervousness as Fleur approached him.

"He's sleeping, but Poppy says that the draught should be wearing off by now."

Remus noted that Fleur had used the matron's first name, and suspected that all three women were now becoming quite chummy with each other. He'd expected as much, figuring that the weirdly romantic twist of Snape's return would have some kind of bonding effect on their feminine sensibilities, distorting their higher reasoning. He knew better than to accuse them of such a thing out loud, though.

"You brought an overnight bag with you?" Fleur questioned, surprised to see Remus' old carpet bag in tow.

"Slughorn didn't have the Wolfsbane ready this time," Remus sighed, slumping his shoulders as he looked abashedly at his luggage. "I was hoping I might stay here until the transformation."

Fleur regarded the werewolf pityingly, determined to be a gracious hostess despite the substantial inconvenience. She and Bill were already familiar with Remus' pre-transformation syndrome, and knew how erratic his moods could be without the aid of the Wolfsbane potion. His presence in the small cottage over the next week would undoubtedly be an added strain on everyone's patience.

"Of course you're welcomed to stay, but all of the spare rooms are filled now; you'll have to sleep on the sofa," Fleur offered apologetically.

"That's fine, Fleur," Remus gratefully assured her, "I just need a safe place to sleep. I'll be gone frequently on Order business, so I'll be out of your hair for the most part."

"It's no trouble, Remus. This is a safe house, after all. We'll make due."

"Yes, well, it's also your home," Remus sighed. "You must be put off by the thought of Snape sleeping here, at least," he suggested, scrutinizing her response as he tried to determine her current stance on the matter.

"It's unsettling, certainly," she admitted, "but also a little exciting... I wonder if you're more 'put off' by it than I am?" she added shrewdly, smirking at Remus' small frown of dissatisfaction. She knew that he was looking for an excuse to be harder on Snape than the situation might demand, and she was unwilling to give him one just yet.

"I have good reason to be put off by the idea," Remus muttered as he followed Fleur into the sitting room. "I don't think he's very stable right now. I'm worried that I've put all of us at risk by allowing him to be confined here."

"Then you've found something incriminating?" Fleur asked, concerned about the results of Remus' investigation.

"What I've found is very troubling, to say the least," he answered vaguely.

"What does that mean? What did you find?" Fleur pressed.

Remus hesitated, unwilling to discuss his findings just yet. "I think I ought to have a talk with Snape before I say any more on the subject," he murmured awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck in a clear tell of his discomfort. Fleur narrowed her eyes in speculation, but resisted the temptation to pry further.

"Well, Bill is upstairs keeping an eye on him, now. I'm sure he'll be glad to be relieved from his watch, if you want to take over."

"I'll do that," Remus readily agreed. "What's Hermione up to?"

"She's in the basement with Poppy. They've set up a cauldron down there, and just started a fresh batch of a recuperative potion for Snape."

"What on Earth for?" Remus protested, "The last thing we need is to restore that man to his full potential!"

"Poppy says that his magical reserves are so depleted, that he's at risk of spectral damage if he isn't treated promptly," Fleur huffed.

"Since when are you so concerned about Snape's health?" Remus asked bitterly.

"I don't want him to suffer unnecessarily," Fleur snapped. "There's obviously more to him than we realized if he's desperate enough to show up here, _now_, in such a state! — and until I know all the facts, I'm not going to interfere with Poppy's care. She seems to know what she's doing."

"She's a mediwitch!" Remus stressed, "She's predisposed to help him to the best of her ability; she doesn't know how to set limits on her care, and she doesn't know the full risk she takes in healing him."

"Neither do you," Fleur pointed out. "Anyhow, she's only just started the potion. Go have your talk. She doesn't have to administer it until you've given her clearance to do so."

Remus blinked as he listened to Fleur's perfectly reasonable response, slightly embarrassed by his overreaction. "Of course. You're right," he sighed. "I didn't mean to snap at you. This whole situation has me on edge, to say the least."

"We all know the strain you're under, Remus," Fleur consoled him. "Nobody envies the position you're in. You're doing your best."

Smiling sadly at her, Remus nodded thankfully at Fleur before making his way toward the staircase. He just hoped that his 'best' would be good enough when it came to confronting the Dark wizard.

...

* * *

><p>Severus woke with a hangover strong enough to rival his worst experiences with Firewhiskey. Someone had been dosing him with a powerful sleeping draught, if the overwhelming flavor of lavender essence in his mouth was any indication. He felt like he'd been hit by a train hauling an entire crop of the stuff.<p>

He was lying on a bed, cosseted in soft sheets. _Where was he? _The last thing he could remember was Hermione's face as she regarded him with astonishment... _Hermione... _jolting further awake, Severus attempted to summon his wand, cursing soundlessly as he grasped at empty air. His eyes were adjusting slowly as he struggled to sit up, his overworked muscles protesting at the attempt. He was suddenly aware of the fact that he wasn't alone.

Stilling on the bed as he blinked away the clinging veil of his long sleep, Severus' dark eyes focused on the figure seated across from him. _Lupin. _The man was staring back at him warily, his wand held steadily but discreetly in his hand. '_He thinks I'm a threat, but he wants something from me,' _Severus reasoned, rapidly processing the limited information at his disposal. _'Someone's been healing me, so whatever he wants must be important enough for him to make me comfortable. I'm not in Azkaban or bleeding at Voldemort's feet, so he must be keeping my location a secret...'_

"Welcome back, Snape," Remus muttered. "I must say it was a surprise to see you back here... but it seems you're full of surprises these days," he added speculatively.

"Where is Hermione?" Snape rasped, his voice coming out unexpectedly rough.

"There's a glass of water beside you," Remus offered helpfully, narrowing his eyes at Snape's immediate mention of the girl. "Hermione is downstairs with Poppy," he answered as Severus ignored his first comment.

Severus couldn't detect any evidence that Lupin was lying to him, and let out a small breath of tension before reaching over for the water. He sniffed at it uncomfortably before determining that there were no obvious traces of potion ingredients in the much-needed drink.

"It's just plain water, Snape," Remus murmured. "If I'd wanted to administer Veritaserum, I could have easily done so while you slept."

"Why don't you get straight to the point, Lupin," Severus drawled as he set the empty glass back on the bedside table. "Why am I here."

"I've been asking myself the same question," Remus scoffed. "Why _are_ you here, Snape? You might have made it safely to any number of untraceable locations by now, to live out the rest of your days in quiet anonymity... That's what you always wanted, wasn't it? To shirk off all your responsibilities and just look out for yourself, and yourself alone? Why risk coming back here at all?"

"Don't presume to know what I want," Severus warned, his eyes narrowing dangerously at Remus' presumption.

"But I must," Remus replied in all seriousness. "You've put yourself in a very tricky position, Snape. The truth of your motives has never been more relevant to the Order."

"I take it you're acting as representative, then?" Severus responded snidely. "Has it really got so bad that they've put _you_ in charge?"

"You killed the man in charge, Snape," Remus quietly accused. "For whatever reason, you killed the greatest wizard of our time. We're all doing our part to pick up the pieces."

Severus narrowed his eyes at that, wondering what Remus meant by implying that he might have had a legitimate reason in murdering Albus. _Does he know something?_

Remus caught the look, knowing that Snape's clever mind was already making the appropriate connections. In answer to the unasked question, he pulled out Snape's notebook and resized it before tossing it onto the bed. Severus scowled at it before darting accusatory eyes at Remus.

"Yes, I read it," Remus stated unapologetically. "All of it."

"_You had no right_—" Severus started hissing, before Remus cut him off.

"I had every right, and you know it. Don't pretend you wouldn't have done the same in my position. We're at war, Severus. Nothing is sacred now."

"Don't lecture me about war, _Lupin,_" Severus spat angrily. "I've seen more of it in my lifetime than you ever will."

"I don't doubt that you've put in your time," Remus quietly allowed, "perhaps more than ought to have been asked of you... but don't underestimate my own commitment. Too much has happened since you've left for you to understand how critical everything has become. I don't know how closely you've been following the latest developments, but you couldn't possibly know the full extent of it. It's not a game any more."

"It never was a game!" Severus growled, "None of you ever realized that! While you were arguing over insignificant strategies and theorizing on any number of pointless conspiracies, I was _down in the thick of it_, taking curse after curse for you _ungrateful sons of bitches! _You have _no idea _what I endured on a regular basis while you lot pranced around like _self-aggrandizing idiots!_"

"Why did you do it, then?" Remus asked suspiciously, "Why put yourself through all that if you hated us so much?"

"_My reasons are my own_," Severus ground out with chilling finality. Remus stared at him for a long moment, realizing with no small amount of disappointment that Snape was not going to budge on this issue.

"Fine, then. I won't press you on that matter. I know that Dumbledore trusted you for whatever reason. You know, for awhile I was reluctant to question the faith he had in you, even after you killed him... I won't dredge up that old business now, but I do need to know why you're here. You killed half a dozen Death Eaters, and _nobody really knows why you did it_. Now, despite the danger, you've come back to the U.K., nearly draining yourself completely in the process... I need to know why."

"My reasons for being here have nothing to do with the Order," Severus prevaricated. He couldn't hide his discomfort from Remus, despite his impressive effort to appear aloof.

"I'm certain that's not true," Remus insisted. "This may be a personal matter, but it also directly involves someone of great importance to our cause."

Severus' eyes flashed at Remus' implication, as he prepared to be confronted about the one subject he was most loath to discuss with the prying werewolf. He knew it was inevitable, but knowing as much was of no consolation.

"What do you want from Hermione?" Remus asked flatly, fixing Severus with a penetrating gaze. Severus drew out the resulting tension for a long beat as his stubborn predisposition to be uncooperative warred with his urgent wish to make this confrontation as painless as possible. One way or the other, something had to give.

Remus broke the tension for him as he pulled out Severus' letter from his inside coat pocket, tossing it onto the bed beside the notebook. It was unopened. Severus glanced at it nervously before looking up at Remus with self-righteous indignation.

"I was going to open it, but I didn't. I did, however, read the draft that you sketched out in your notebook," Remus admitted. He paused for a moment before sighing, "I don't know what to make of all this, Severus. I know you think that it's none of my business, but you're wrong. Hermione _is_ my business. Her safety, her wellbeing— it's a major concern. If you're a threat to her— in whatever capacity— it's my duty to keep you away from her."

"I'm the one who found her, you idiot," Snape snarled. "I'm the one who kept searching for her, remember? I went after her when Dumbledore, in all his wisdom, tried to convince everyone that she was destined to show up _spontaneously_, in her_ own time!"_

"You don't need to remind me of all that; I remember perfectly well. You were so determined to find her regardless of Dumbledore's instructions, and we never did figure out _why that was_..."

"What do you want to hear, Lupin? Shall I admit that I was as _obsessed_ with her as you were all so quick to believe?"

"You must admit, at least, that it did look rather suspicious," Remus argued. "And now, in light of what I read in that notebook... I think it's fair to say that we weren't actually all that far off in our assumptions."

Severus sneered at that, reluctant to admit to anything of the sort. Perhaps he _had_ been obsessed with Hermione from the beginning, but he didn't see how it was any of Remus' business now.

"What's done is done," Severus enunciated slowly. "I _found her_. _That's_ what really matters."

"Yes, you did. But you didn't bring her back to us as you should have, did you?" Remus prompted. "You kept her all to yourself, shacked up in the middle of nowhere. What am I supposed to make of that?"

"I was helping her," Severus replied tightly, before sighing with tentative resignation, "—or trying to, at any rate. I didn't expect to find her in such a state."

"I know about her condition," Remus offered. "I read your notes, and I heard Poppy's assessment. ...I'd never heard of that chastity spell before," he added uncomfortably.

"Nor I," Severus stiffly contributed after a long pause.

"It does raise some serious questions about Hermione's feelings, but I'm not as concerned with those at the moment as I am about yours."

Severus looked at the man with incomprehension as he struggled to interpret his meaning. "Surely you don't mean to sit here and discuss my _feelings_," he muttered distastefully.

"That's precisely what I mean to do," Remus answered solemnly, glancing up at Severus from under his lowered brow. Severus returned the glance with astonishment, suddenly feeling extremely claustrophobic.

"I won't be subjected to this," he hissed.

"You will, if you want to remain under our protection," Remus warned. "If you're willing to cooperate, I'm your only chance. Once Mad-Eye hears that you're under our custody, you know that he won't hesitate to seek revenge for Albus. You're going to need someone to vouch for you."

"You're telling me that _you_ are that someone?" Severus snapped distrustingly.

"I'm the only one in a position to listen, Severus," Remus insisted. "I've read your notebook. I have your bottled memories. I'm giving you a chance to explain yourself before everything spills out for all and sundry to examine. You know that you're going to end up with more enemies than friends, no matter what."

"Some things never change," Severus remarked bitterly.

"Nevertheless, I'm offering you my help, if you'll allow it."

"Help?" Severus echoed in disbelief. "Why would you help me?"

Remus didn't respond immediately. Instead he dropped his head to stare at his boots as he composed an answer, finally looking up at Severus with unexpected earnestness. Something akin to shame haunted his eyes.

"I want to help because I think I understand, in a way," Remus spoke quietly. "Dora and I married, you know."

Severus blinked at that, surprised by the revelation and confused as to how it applied to his situation.

"I don't know how much you were aware of at the time, since you were understandably preoccupied... but ours was quite the little melodrama before I finally caved. We were wed at the end of June; we thought it would be a way of moving past our grief over Albus. We all needed to feel hopeful about the future again, but that pall never abated. We were happy enough, don't get me wrong... we were very much in love. Still are, of course—"

"What on Earth does any of this have to do with me?" Severus interrupted, clearly quite uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was heading in.

"She was so young, Severus," Remus nearly whispered in response, his voice affected with a melancholy strain. The two men stared at each other awkwardly as the moment stretched out with ominous weight before Remus continued, "I knew she deserved better. I still know it. But she refused to listen to me, and now she's stuck with me, for better or worse. She's pregnant with my child. I might well have destroyed her life! If she gives birth to another werewolf, I'll have brought such _unimaginable misery_ upon her, and upon the poor child, as well."

Severus had a sudden flash of panic, wondering if Remus was trying to tell him something. "Is Hermione pregnant?" He rasped, nearly inaudibly.

"No, no... that's not what I meant..." Remus assured him, easily recognizing the panic that had risen in the other man's eyes, "but you see my point now, don't you? Suppose Hermione _was_ with child? Do you think you'd make a suitable father?"

"_Dammit, Lupin!_" Severus snapped, "Stop harassing me with this sensational drivel! I won't entertain these empty suppositions!"

"They're not so empty, really," Remus argued. "I saw that look in your eyes. You know as well as I do what might have happened; what could happen still, if you were careless enough to let it... what _must not happen._"

"What are you saying?" Severus asked darkly.

"Hermione is not right for you, and you know it."

Severus waited for another long beat before carefully replying, "Even if we _were_ in a position to pursue anything, which it seems we are not... I believe that would be for Hermione to decide."

"Are you kidding?" Remus blinked, his hackles rising at the supposition. "You really think that _that_ _girl_ is in any position to decide what is or isn't in her best interest right now?"

"What does it matter anyway?" Severus replied irritably, "I don't see the point in this discussion, since you're clearly determined to impose your will, no matter what I have to say about it."

"I'm trying to _reason_ with you, _man to man_," Remus argued.

"Is that what this is?" Severus glowered, "Some kind of misguided exercise in _male bonding? _Merlin's mercies, whatever have I done to encourage such a thing?"

"I never expected this to go smoothly," Remus muttered, "but I did feel obliged to give it my best shot. I read what you wrote in that notebook, Severus. I couldn't ignore the gravity of those sentiments. You... _love_ Hermione," he said with difficulty. "I think I can understand why that is. Just as I can understand your reluctance to accept it. I respect that, which is why I'm trying to be reasonable, here."

"_Your presumption is __**beyond insufferable**_," Severus ground out, his nerves all in a jangle at the mere mention of the four-letter L-word.

"All the same, you'd do well to hear me out," Remus insisted. "Hermione is _young. _Younger than Dora was when we started up, and Dora's _still _just a girl in some ways. I know they're different people, and I realize that Hermione's been through experiences which have aged parts of her prematurely... but some parts haven't caught up, yet. You must realize that, yourself — she's still _just a baby _— at least in some of the most fundamental ways... real life experience... that sort of thing. She cares for you— anyone could see that. But it sort of resembles the way that a small child loves an injured animal..." Remus looked up and caught Severus' confused expression, and it emboldened him to continue. "_Think_ about what you are to her; what you must seem like. You're some wild thing that she instinctively longs to tame... women are always trying to tame wild things. It's natural, but it can be completely misguided. She's scared of you, I think, and she mistakes that fear for passion."

"You don't know anything about how she feels," Severus muttered, trying weakly to dismiss the suggestion.

"I might not... but then again, maybe I do..." Remus replied thoughtfully. "I was a wild thing to Dora. She tried to convince me that she wasn't afraid of the werewolf in me, but how could she _not_ be? Anyone with any degree of sense knows that they ought to be afraid of that which could easily destroy them. If that fear isn't there— or rather, if she has _convinced herself _that she's not afraid— then that fear—that _basic sense—_has been redirected somehow... sublimated into something more acceptable; something like love."

Remus looked up at Severus, who was narrowing his eyes at him but obviously listening carefully. "I'm not saying that she doesn't really love me," Remus said quietly. "That would be cruel and unfair. She does. But I think that love might've arisen out of a sublimated fear of the danger that I posed to her. That doesn't make it less real, but it _is _something to think about. I care about her so much... I'd never hurt her if I could help it. But, Severus... what if_ I can't help it?_ What if I'm too fucked up to be able to stop myself? ...I knew that I was wrong for her from the very beginning, but I yielded to the will of my heart. We've been happy, sure... but time will tell if it was worth the risk. Whatever happens next will be my own fault. It's too late to turn back; I'm responsible for her, now. She's my wife, and the mother of my unborn child."

Sighing heavily, Remus leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest as he regarded Severus with a pitying kind of seriousness.

"We're not so different in this respect. You know that you're just as dangerous to Hermione as a werewolf, if not more so. Whatever passion that danger rouses in her can either be exploited or extinguished. I'm sure you're just as capable of the former as you are of the latter, but I hope you'll think twice about it. If you truly care about her— and I think that you do— then you'll do right by her."

After a pause, Severus carefully asked, "Are you saying that I'll have the freedom to do either?"

"That remains to be seen," Remus replied with a note of warning. "I'll have to bring all of this up with Minerva and Kingsley before any decision can be made— and you can be sure that they'll be more persistent in their questioning than I've been today— but in the meantime you'll stay here. Your wand will be kept in custody, and we've set up wards to prevent any wandless magic while you're in residence. Everyone else's wand has been spelled to reject your magic, so don't even try it unless you want to end up unconscious. There's a magic tracer on you, as well. If you know what's good for you, you won't try anything foolish."

"A Death Eater under house arrest? This is a first..." Severus scoffed.

"We both know that you're no ordinary Death Eater," Remus replied.

As Remus stood to exit the room, Severus hesitated before asking the question that was foremost on his mind. As if in answer to his dilemma, Remus spoke up in front of the doorway, "I'll send Poppy up to check on you now that you're awake. ...Shall I send Hermione with her?" he asked with surprising candor.

"...Not yet," Severus answered quietly. Remus nodded with a look of understanding that Severus found only mildly irritating before the werewolf left the Dark wizard alone with his thoughts. As much as he hated to admit it to himself, Remus had given him plenty to think about.

...

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: **__What do you think? Is Remus in the right, or are his ideas about women a bit old-fashioned? The long-awaited reunion will follow shortly! _


	47. Chapter 47

_**A/N: **__Some very strong opinions about Remus came out last chapter! While some of you were in line with my initial thoughts on the matter, others presented very convincing alternate takes... All things considered, someone has to play the antagonist, and poor Remus was recruited into that role once Nina was taken off duty. He's doing a fine job of it, if your heated responses are anything to go by! _(;

* * *

><p>Chapter 47<p>

.

"What do you mean I can't go up yet? I want to see him!"

"He's only just woken up, Hermione. Poppy needs to examine him, and he wanted her to do so in private."

"I don't believe you! He came here to see me, didn't he? Let me pass!"

"Calm down! What's gotten into you? He isn't going anywhere; not yet. You can see him as soon as he's ready."

"Ready for what? ...Why do you say it like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like I'm not going to like what comes next..."

"...I just don't think you should get your hopes up, Hermione. Severus is a wanted man. He's a sort of prisoner here. You shouldn't form an attachment to him."

"Well it's _too late for that! _What are you going to do about him?"

"That remains to be seen."

"What does that mean?"

"There's too much up in the air right now to be more specific."

"...Remus... what did the two of you talk about when he woke up?"

"...The conditions of his stay here... Order business."

"...Am _I _considered 'Order business,' Remus?"

"As a matter of fact, yes. You are."

"Because of the prophecy?"

"That... and because we all care about you."

"Don't give me that. The prophecy is relevant to the Order, to be sure... but the rest is _personal_."

"Does that make it any less important?"

"It does make it less... jurisdictional."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"I mean that, as an Order leader, you have a right to interfere with aspects of my life that relate directly to the prophecy... but, as a _friend, _you have no right to interfere with my personal life without my consent. You don't have that kind of authority over me."

"...I think it's a rather hazy distinction, since both aspects of your life are so deeply intertwined..."

"But it's not! The distinction is perfectly clear to me; if it looks hazy to you, then you're looking at it the wrong way."

"Are you saying that your... relationship... with Severus is not relevant to the Order?"

"I'm saying that you need to stop acting like my personal life is your responsibility!"

"But it is—"

"No, it's not! And since you've basically admitted that you were talking to Severus about me, you might as well tell me what you said!"

"...Hermione, you're overreacting. Severus and I did have a somewhat personal talk, yes. But it was strictly between us."

"Don't pretend as if you two have become bosom buddies all of a sudden. You're interfering, and _you know it! _If I find out that you've been poisoning him against me..."

"I really don't think that I deserve that tone from you, Hermione. Everything that was said was meant in_ your best interest_, and even his, by extension."

"What do _you_ know about what's in _my _best interest? You don't even know the first thing about me!"

"That's not true."

"It is! We're practically strangers now, and if you haven't realized that, then you've got your head up your arse!"

"Hermione!"

"Get out of my way, I'm going upstairs."

"Not until Poppy's finished examining him..."

"Get _OUT. of. my. way..."_

"You're out of order..."

"Funny; I was just thinking the same thing about you."

"You're making a mistake. Severus doesn't want to see you right now."

"That's a lie."

"It's not. He needs some time to think. He basically said as much before I left him."

"To think about whatever rubbish you fed him up there? We'll see about that. If you don't move out of my way _this instant_, so help me, Remus, I'll..."

"_Remus Lupin!_" A shrill voice rang out from the top of the basement stairs, "Stop manhandling that girl at once!"

"Poppy? What are you doing here?" Remus asked, releasing his hold on Hermione's shoulders as she pushed her way past him in a full snit, roughly elbowing him in the process.

"I finished my check-up, and my patient wanted to be left alone," she said quietly, giving Hermione a meaningful look.

"You mean...?" Hermione asked, hurt by the implication that Severus really didn't want to see her yet.

"Don't take it personally, Hermione. Severus is practically a caged animal right now, and you'd do well to steer clear of him until he's adjusted to these circumstances," Poppy advised, sorry to disappoint the girl when she knew how excited she'd been. "Just give him a little space; I'm sure he'll be grateful for your company soon enough."

Looking thoroughly dejected as the mediwitch patted her shoulder, Hermione made her way into the sitting room to curl into one of the fireside armchairs, deep in thought. _What did Remus really say to him? Did Severus take it to heart? _She wanted nothing more than to barge in on him and demand an explanation, but she realized the futility of that strategy. If Severus really wanted space, she'd have to try and give it to him. _At least for a little while..._

...

Severus sighed as he took another long look at his reflection, feeling more than a little ridiculous in the nightclothes that Bill had leant him. Though the good-natured man had been more than accommodating by offering to re-size the garments to meet Severus' exacting specifications— even charming the formerly colorful plaid into a much darker scheme of deep blues and greens on black— Severus still felt completely out of place. The collar didn't suit him at all. Altogether, in combination with the thick socks on his feet, he felt that the overall look was far too... _plush. _He looked like the kind of man who might welcome a child into his lap to hear a bedtime story. He just looked too damnably _cuddly _to approach Hermione as he intended to; _how could he possibly expect her to take him seriously when he looked like this? Could he really hope to convince her that he was too dangerous for her in such a get-up?_

Apparently, Bill had found Severus' own clothes shrunk down in his coat pocket, but Bill's meddling wife wouldn't allow him to have them back until they'd been thoroughly washed. Severus ungraciously suspected that she was deliberately taking her sweet time about it, though why she'd wish to humiliate him in such a way was a mystery he'd probably never comprehend.

A knock on the bedroom door broke his reverie, and he stiffened as he turned toward the sound. _Not yet! _His tension was short-lived, though, when Poppy Pomfrey entered the room alone, shutting the door behind her.

"Hello again, Severus," she said briskly. "I have your potion ready for you, now. Best to drink it while it's still warm..."

Nodding in thanks, Severus took the proffered drink and tipped it back dutifully, the only sign of its biting taste evident in the slight watering of his eyes. After enduring countless treatments throughout the years, Severus had become almost frightfully tolerant of whatever Poppy administered. Anyone else might have sputtered and fussed over the unpalatable concoction, but he swallowed it down without protest.

"Thank you, Poppy," he said quietly. "You're being remarkably unbiased toward me, all things considered."

"Pish posh," the mediwitch responded as she Scourgified the contents of the potion vial and put it back in her kit. "I'm a mediwitch; it's my job to look after my patients."

Severus regarded the woman with slight discomfort, wondering whether she actually trusted him or if she was simply doing her job, as she claimed. She caught the look when she glanced up again, and her eyes softened a fraction.

"I don't pretend to know anything about what's really going on in this awful war," she started to explain, searching for the right words, "but I've always believed you to be a man of character. I was shocked, of course, when Albus was killed... but I couldn't believe the worst of you as easily as others did. I'd like to think that I know you better than that."

After an uncomfortable pause, Severus was able to summon a response to the unexpected generosity. "I'm glad that you're here."

"Hmm," the older woman smiled, "you ought to be, the state you were in... I'm surprised you made it this far, to be honest..."

"That's not what I meant," Severus murmured. "I mean..."

"I know what you meant," Poppy assured him helpfully when he couldn't finish his sentence. "And you should know that I consider you a friend, as well," she added warmly. She could see that Severus was uncomfortable, and promptly changed the subject. "But enough of that. We're both here now, and I intend to help where I can, but I can't stay for much longer. You're on your way to a full recovery, and I have duties elsewhere."

"You're leaving?" Severus asked with unconcealed disappointment.

"Not just yet," Poppy assured him, "I'll remain here until you've completed the regimen, to ensure that your recovery goes smoothly. But then I really must be moving on. I came here because Remus implied that he had a legitimate patient in need of my care, but Hermione's predicament seems beyond my capabilities. Until you turned up, I was feeling a bit like a spare part around here."

"Then you don't think Hermione can be healed with magic?" Severus asked, looking troubled.

"No, I don't— at least, not by any magic I'm familiar with."

After another pause, Poppy stepped forward to pat Severus' shoulder comfortingly. The concern in his eyes was quite touching.

"She's lucky to have you on her side, you know," the woman insisted.

"I'm not so sure about that," Severus mumbled. "I might have put her at great risk by coming here."

"I fear that she's going to be at risk no matter what," Poppy consoled him. "She was so desperately unhappy before you showed up. I was quite worried about her. At least now she knows that you care about her."

Severus looked conflicted at that, unable to decide what to make of it. "It wasn't supposed to happen this way... I don't know what I'm doing here anymore," he sighed.

"Oh, I'm sure you'll figure it out," Poppy assured him, a little too cheerfully for his comfort. She had a knowing look on her face that was immediately unsettling.

"I'll leave you alone now, but I hope you'll consider coming downstairs soon. There's someone waiting down there who is quite anxious to see you," she said with a touch of criticism.

As she shut the door behind her, Severus turned back toward the mirror again with a look of uncertainty. He knew that Hermione was waiting for him, and he hated to disappoint her— but he had no idea what he was going to say once he'd worked up the courage to see her. _If only he had something more appropriate to wear..._

...

It was already well dark by the time Severus managed to leave the spurious refuge of the guest bedroom, after waiting to hear Poppy and the Weasleys retire to their own rooms. Someone had hesitated outside his door, apparently thinking twice about whatever they had considered saying to him. Eventually the house became quiet but for the indistinguishable murmurs of the married couple's low conversation. He hadn't heard any more from Remus, and expected that the man was still out on whatever business had occupied him that evening. That left only Hermione, still waiting for him downstairs.

Both Severus and Hermione had skipped supper, too caught up in their respective moods to think about eating. Bill had later brought up a full plate to Severus' room, but it remained untouched. Poppy had twice tried to coax Hermione to the table, but to no avail; _why hadn't Severus come down to see her, yet? _Until she had an answer, she had no interest in anything else. Since she was determined to sulk by the fire, the others had found the atmosphere in the sitting room a little too tense for their comfort, and had begrudgingly retired to their respective rooms for the remainder of the evening. It seemed that they weren't going to get to witness any kind of reunion between the odd pair, after all.

As he crept quietly down the staircase, Severus took in the cozy ambience of the little cottage, unexpectedly charmed by the tasteful decor. Though he'd never see himself in such a place, he couldn't deny the sensible aesthetics, especially for a Weasley's den. It seemed that the influence of Fleur's innate Veela charms extended beyond the corporal.

Most of the lights had been turned down, though a steady fire still blazed in the sitting room hearth. Severus' breath caught as he glimpsed the top of Hermione's head resting against the back of an armchair, and he stood completely still for a moment, expecting her to turn toward him. When she didn't move, he tentatively made his way toward her, his heart racing despicably fast.

She was asleep. He wondered how long she'd sat in that chair while he debated with himself in front of the mirror, fussing and fretting like a self-conscious teenager. He couldn't help feeling like his whole world hinged on this very moment — as if whatever he said next would either absolve or destroy him.

In the end, he'd resolved to just give her the letter after all and let her decide what to do about it — but now, as he stared down at her, watching her breathe as the firelight played across her pretty features, he felt a jolt of terror pass over him. The letter in his clammy hand suddenly seemed unaccountably heavy, as if it contained his certain doom. Without pausing to reconsider, he tossed the dratted missive into the fire, exhaling in relief as it sizzled and flared out of existence. _There. Finished. _

The burst of light must have roused Hermione, because in the next moment she was blinking awake. She squinted at the fire in confusion as the last of the letter burned away, before turning to meet the dark eyes of the man standing over her. She had no idea what to make of his inscrutable expression, and found herself momentarily stunned just to be looking at him at all.

The two simply stared at each other for a long beat, caught up in a strange sort of spell that held them rapt in each others' gaze. Across from them, the last of the letter fell away to ash as the consuming flames settled back down to a steady burn. Hermione watched as its glow rearranged the contours of Severus' unmoving face; it made him appear rather statuesque, except for the fire that glinted behind his obsidian eyes. The two of them might have remained that way, had Nina not broken through Hermione's hazy thoughts. _'What are you waiting for? Are you going to kiss him, or shall I?'_

Hermione flinched as she shook off Nina's attempt to lunge out of the seat, though she couldn't deny that Severus looked remarkably kissable in that moment. '_Doesn't he realize what he does to me when he looks at me like that?'... _As the urge to act on the impulse became increasingly difficult to resist, Hermione frantically tried to redirect her attention.

"Were you just burning something?" she asked in a small voice, glancing uneasily toward the fire as she broke from his intense gaze.

Severus blinked as awareness returned to him, thankful for the interruption to his wayward thoughts, if not slightly disappointed. If she hadn't brought him back to reality, he might have tried to kiss her as soundly as he had just fantasized about.

Swallowing thickly before composing an answer, Severus spoke without looking away from Hermione's lightly flushed face (..._is the fire too warm for her, or has something else stirred her blood?..._). "I was," he replied distractedly, his eyes intensifying when she returned her gaze to him.

"What was it?" she all but whispered in reply.

"Something better committed to flame than ink," he answered cryptically.

Severus watched as confusion moved across Hermione's open expression, and wondered if he'd been right to destroy the letter, after all. Now he found himself in the awkward position of having to explain himself without it, and had no idea where to begin. His predicament must have been somewhat apparent, because Hermione was suddenly reaching toward him, offering a comforting hand. He only hesitated for a moment, staring apprehensively at her tiny fingers before allowing his own hand to slide over them. She smiled softly as she wrapped her smaller hand around his, staring in fascination at the sight before caressing the back of his hand with her thumb. He watched her in amazement as her gentle touch seemed to release something he'd hardly realized he'd been holding back, and a powerful rush of emotion overwhelmed him. He felt his knees go weak, and he allowed himself to drop heavily onto the carpet, teetering as he kneeled beside Hermione's chair.

"Severus!" Hermione gasped, gripping his hand in alarm as her other hand swept over his brow. "Are you all right? Didn't the potion help?"

Leaning his head tiredly into Hermione's caress, Severus let out a long sigh before answering. "_I missed you..._" he said with his eyes closed, so quietly that Hermione almost thought she'd heard the words inside her head. An extraordinary warmth bloomed in her chest as she registered the words as his, fluttering through her belly and lighting up her hazel eyes.

"I missed you, too," she smiled, her words shaky, "—_so much..._"

Sighing again with a heavy sort of relief, Severus slumped forward and allowed his head to rest in Hermione's lap. She looked down at it in surprise, blinking in wonder for a moment before slowly proceeding to run her fingers lightly through his hair, massaging his scalp when his soft sounds of contentment encouraged her. Eventually her fingers trailed down over his neck and shoulders as she caressed him with greater confidence, assured that her touch was welcome by the way he'd relax incrementally, his weight in her lap becoming heavier as he slumped bonelessly against her. This was what he'd needed. All the induced sleep and healing potions only went so far to restoring the deeper exhaustion that had plagued his soul. Now, under Hermione's touch— his head resting safely in her lap— Severus felt as if he'd come home. An unusual warmth had spread through his own body as well, thawing parts of him that had been cold for so long. He would have been content to die right there in her lap, being so incredibly at peace.

As they stayed in that position for a long time, the fire slowly died down to mostly glowing embers. Severus' hand had wandered to Hermione's ankle, playing idly with the scrunched up fabric of her wooly sock as she continued to run her fingers lightly through his hair. When he tugged down on the material and exposed her ankle bone, Hermione's hand stilled at the nape of his neck, unconsciously mirroring his caress as he stroked around the bone in lazy circles before guiding the fabric down over her heel, leaving the tender skin between the ankle bone and achilles tendon bare for him to play with.

Hermione felt her throat become thick as Severus continued to idly caress his way around the back of her foot, surprised by her body's reaction to the seemingly innocuous touch. She supposed it didn't really matter where he touched her; his touch was electric, always. By the time he pushed the rest of the sock entirely off her foot and began slowly stroking the underside of her arch, Hermione was fully aroused. Nina was reasserting dominance as she prompted Hermione to react to the sensation, though Hermione was determined to sit still. She wanted to wait and see what Severus would do next, without her interference.

In answer to her silent prayer, she felt his hand wrap around her ankle, as if measuring it with his fingers before drifting slowly up her calve in one long stroke. She sighed softly as his fingertips found the sensitive flesh behind her knee, tickling it absently before his knuckles drifted over the curve of her calve muscle again, then back up to skim over the side of her thigh.

The pair of them became increasingly aware of the proximity of Severus' face to Hermione's crotch as her arousal increased, and Severus' sharp nose picked up her sweet scent. His own crotch throbbed almost painfully as blood rushed to his groin, and he shifted his head in her lap, groaning as he buried his face deeper in the silk of her nightgown. Fleur had tried to convince her to wear something a little more decent while she waited in the sitting room, but Hermione and Nina had been in agreement that the fitted silk nightdress was her best option. The others had grown accustomed to her questionable dress sense, and didn't push the issue anymore.

In answer to his deep groan, Hermione let out a high-pitched gasp, rapidly losing her ability to think clearly as the rumble of Severus' voice vibrated against her sex. "_You smell delicious,_" he purred into the crux of her thighs, shocking her with his candor. ..._Where has this side of him been hiding?_

'_Oh, he's been around,' _Nina assured her, delighting in the situation. '_It's about time that you brought it out in him...'_

'_I don't even know how I did it,' _Hermione thought, marveling at the sight of the dark man losing his composure in her lap.

'_It's not rocket science,' _Nina scoffed, _'—it's easier than you think. You'll learn...'_

Before Hermione could think of a response, she was distracted by the feel of Severus' hand inching up over her thigh before slipping under the hem of her gown, his fingers kneading urgently at the thick flesh before he sat up slightly, glancing at Hermione as he pushed the silk further out of the way. She found herself caught in the most piercing of his gazes yet as he hooked his fingers around the sides of her soaked knickers, tugging them down as she immediately arched her hips to help him. She was panting heavily in anticipation, her cheeks flushed as Severus' inky eyes dropped down to stare between her legs with chilling hunger. _Was he really going to do __**that**__ to her?_

'_You'd better hope so!' _Nina cheered, breaking through Hermione's trepidation to force her thighs further apart.

Severus' eyes flashed wildly as she spread her legs for him, making a strange noise before lowering his head to lick along the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, his hands rising to skim along their outsides. Hermione moaned softly at the sensation, gripping the arms of the chair tightly as she closed her eyes against the intensity of it all. She could feel Severus' tongue inching closer to her sex in between soft nips of his teeth, and heard him murmuring small noises to himself as he bit down on the tender meat of her milky thighs before licking his way toward her dripping center. She smelled completely divine, her fresh, pink flesh glistening under the thick sheen of her arousal. He'd never seen a more appetizing sight, with the possible exception of her tan-lined breasts. He wanted to devour her completely. His empty stomach rumbled before he lunged forward, sucking at her sweet essence as she cried out in surprise at the acute sensation. Severus' hand shot up toward her face, feeling around blindly for a moment before securing itself over her mouth as he thrust his tongue deeply inside of her, anticipating her resulting moan as his hand pressed urgently against her open mouth, mostly smothering the sounds she emitted. Though he wanted to spend all night feasting on her, a small, mostly ignored part of his brain registered the fact that they weren't alone in the house. He had to be quick about it.

Dragging his tongue up to circle her clit, Severus pressed down firmly on Hermione's mouth as she squealed in pleasure, teasing the small nub with a few practiced strokes before sucking on it slowly, building pressure as Hermione bucked and squirmed beneath him, whimpering against his hand. With one more thrust of his tongue into her tight pussy he made her come, flexing his tongue inside her as she trembled around him, then dragging it out to lick over her throbbing sex in long, languorous strokes as he drew out her climax, the fingers still at her lips slipping down and into her mouth to feel her soft tongue as she panted breathlessly. Little dying moans of pleasure drifted forth to vibrate against his fingers, and he wanted nothing more in that moment than to take out his aching cock and stuff it into her wet little mouth. _Would she resist? Would she suck him off as needily as he had sucked at her sweet little cunt? Would she moan around him until he came? Would he have to shove himself down her throat to silence her?_

The temptation was impossible to resist. Consumed by the dark force of his unfulfilled arousal, Severus pulled his fingers out of Hermione's mouth and began tugging at the waistband of his night trousers, already damp with pre-cum. He'd just freed the thick head of his cock from its restraints when a sound behind him alerted him to an unexpected presence; _someone was coming through the back door!_

Quickly shoving himself back in his trousers with a muttered curse, Severus looked up to find Hermione's eyes wide with surprise, her nether region still completely exposed. He tugged at her skirt, trying to right the hem while she reluctantly returned to reality. Someone was approaching from the back entryway, and stopped abruptly as they came within view of the sitting room.

Steeling himself for whatever confrontation was to follow, Severus turned toward the intruder. _Lupin. For fuck's sake._

Remus was staring at the lurid sight in a mix of embarrassment and rising fury, his eyes darting accusingly between Hermione and Severus, uncertain just who to direct the blame toward. He could tell by their positions and the heady smell in the air just what had been going on before he walked in. Though she was trying to feign nonchalance, Hermione's discarded knickers were lying in plain sight on the carpet beside her chair. _Of all the nerve!_

"I leave you alone for mere _hours,_ Snape, and this is what you get up to while I'm gone?" Remus demanded, "Where the fuck are Bill and Fleur?"

"They've gone up," Hermione answered haughtily. "What are _you_ doing back here?" She asked nastily.

"I happen to be staying here over the next week," Remus snapped back at her, "and it's a good thing, too, if this is the kind of thing going on around here while I'm away!"

"This is none of your business, _wolf_," Severus spat, rising to his feet as he stared down the other man.

"We'll see about that!" Remus countered, "So long as you're under this roof, there's going to be rules! I can't believe I'm going to have to spell them out for you, but apparently you're unfamiliar with _basic decency! _Honestly, Snape! In the middle of the blessed _sitting room_, of all places!"

"What's going on down there?" Bill called out from the upstairs railing, "Is everything all right, Remus?"

"No, it certainly isn't," Remus huffed, "but I'm handling it, Bill. Go back to bed."

"We weren't sleeping yet," Fleur corrected. "Is Hermione still downstairs?"

"Yes, I'm here," Hermione answered sullenly.

"With Severus?" Fleur asked, a hint of accusation in her voice as she began to imagine what had gotten Remus so upset.

"I was just returning to my room," Severus lied, fixing Remus with a challenging glare.

"I'm not finished with you yet," Remus replied tightly. "Go upstairs, Hermione."

"I don't have to do what you say," Hermione challenged, looking at Severus nervously as he gave her a look that seemed to say that she wasn't making this any easier on anyone.

"Fine, but I'm taking some biscuits up with me," she huffed, heading toward the kitchen with her head held high.

"Don't forget these," Remus muttered, flicking his wand toward her sodden undergarments and sending them flying toward her. Hermione caught them with a frown, turning away quickly to hide her blush as she retreated behind the kitchen door.

"I'm tired, Lupin. It's been a rather taxing evening," Severus drawled, fixing the werewolf with a disconcerting stare. "Whatever you have to say to me can be said in the morning. I'm going to bed."

"Now see here, Snape—" Remus growled, only to be interrupted by Poppy's voice from the stairwell.

"Let him go, Remus," she said sternly. "He can't afford any added excitement until the potion has had time to take effect. I won't have you compromising my patient!"

"He's not your patient," Remus argued, "Hermione is!"

"Not anymore," Poppy said matter-of-factly. "In my medical opinion, Severus is the only legitimate patient under this roof. And he's still in the early stage of his recuperation, so you're interfering with all my hard work while you badger him down there."

"Oh, of all the nonsensical, backwards balderdash..." Remus muttered, "This is becoming something of a mad house..."

"Does that make you a lunatic?" Severus murmured with a sly smirk.

"Don't test me, Snape." Remus replied lowly, "I thought we had something of an understanding. I'm severely disappointed in you."

"Oh, however shall I cope..." Severus murmured back, gliding toward the staircase with an air of superiority that was impressively affected for a wizard without a wand.

"You've just made things much worse for yourself — you do realize that, don't you?" Remus muttered bitterly. He received no reply, though, other than the sight of Severus' back as he retreated up the stairs. Turning toward the sitting room with a suppressed growl, Remus cringed before casting freshening charms over the room. As he summoned some spare blankets and began fixing himself a bed on the sofa, Hermione slipped past him with a tin of biscuits and a glass of milk in tow, looking a bit too much like the cat that got the cream for his liking.

"Goodnight, Remus," she said cheekily, climbing up the stairs with a sway to her hips that irked the werewolf more than it ought to. His glance strayed to her feet, and he furrowed his brows as he wondered why she was only wearing one sock.

With a heavy sigh of frustration, Remus summoned his carpet bag and headed toward the downstairs loo to change into his nightclothes. _This was just the beginning, _he told himself. He could only imagine what kind of shenanigans the rest of the week would bring. _What, indeed..._

...


	48. Chapter 48

Chapter 48

.

As Severus shut the bedroom door behind him, he leaned back against the frame and closed his eyes, taking a moment to consider all that had just transpired. _What the fuck had he been thinking? _He _hadn't _been thinking, he reasoned. Somehow his higher brain had shut down and he'd been driven by lust, alone. _But how? At which point had he given over control to such impulses? _...He couldn't be sure. All he knew with any certainty was that he couldn't trust himself around Hermione. She brought out some part of him that was better kept locked up; a part that knew nothing beyond the will of the flesh.

He shuddered to think what might have happened if Lupin hadn't interrupted them when he did. _Suppose Lupin had walked in while he'd had his cock down Hermione's throat? How thoroughly fucked would he be, then? _He wouldn't have been surprised if the wolf had hexed him on the spot, and how could he blame him? His behavior had been inexcusable. Never mind the fact that Hermione's warm, wet tongue had felt softer than silk against his fingers; her lips as delicate as primrose petals. He had no business dropping his trousers in the middle of the sitting room, no matter how enticing her hot breaths had felt against his hand. _No matter how sweet it would have been to debauch her right then and there, with her legs still spread and her skirt bunched up around her waist... her face still flushed and her eyes still bright from the pleasure his mouth had given her..._

"_Unnnghhh," _Severus groaned, pressing the heels of his hands into his eye sockets as he tried to steer his mind in another direction. His erection was still straining against his borrowed trousers impatiently, as if it didn't know that the party was over and was still waiting to jump out and shout "surprise!". There was little that Severus could do to curb its enthusiasm, other than waiting it out. He couldn't find relief in a cold shower in the middle of the night, since taking one now would look much too suspicious. He couldn't even jerk himself off quietly, since he had no place to hide his release without a wand to Scourgify the evidence away. He supposed he might be able to relieve himself in the loo, but was too embarrassed to attempt it. Nobody would have to stretch their imagination to figure out what he was up to in there. It was just too humiliating to consider.

_Why hadn't he just given her the blasted letter? _Severus wondered how the night might have gone if he'd stuck to his original plan. Though it was true that he'd written it under duress and that he regretted most of it in retrospect, he imagined that the same would be true no matter what the letter contained. Whether a work of poetry of a piece of utter rubbish, he knew that handing over such a personal document would always be acutely painful to him. At least it would have helped explain things to Hermione in a way that words would surely fail to accomplish. He might not have second-guessed it in that last moment, had it not occurred to him that Lupin had seemed to approve of his letter. He'd been wondering about that, questioning whether the fact that Lupin was on board with the idea was proof enough that the letter should never again see the light of day. Severus still didn't know whether the wolf was right about him or not, but it was becoming apparent that the man wasn't quite in his right mind. He wasn't about to start following the dictates of a verifiable lunatic — especially not when it was so close to the full moon.

Still, Severus felt that Lupin was not quite the worst of his problems at the moment. Until further notice, Severus had been condemned to remain in the cottage without magic, in close quarters with the very girl he was accused of being a threat to. Though partially true, he wondered if the sexual threat that he posed was entirely his responsibility. There was no doubt in his mind now that she was a willing participant in his depravity, though he was reluctant to justify it on those grounds. He still had no idea what was going on with her mental state now, and wondered how much of an influence the 'Nina' aspect of her personality still held over her. She certainly seemed less like the repressed schoolgirl that had once held sway over her divided consciousness...

He'd have to try to address that matter when he had a chance. So long as he was being kept here with her, he might as well try to make himself useful to her. He would have to keep the fact that he was in love with her to himself, at least until he was sure that she was stable enough to handle such a revelation responsibly. He couldn't let the urgency of his feelings get in the way of her development, no matter how selfish he was naturally inclined to be. Lupin was right about one thing: if he really cared for her, then he wouldn't put his own desires before her needs. He had to start acting like an adult, rather than the lovesick, sex-starved adolescent that had lately possessed him. _If only it were that easy..._

...

It was well after midnight by the time Severus had drifted off to sleep. The house had gone quiet hours ago, when the initial excitement and speculation about what had transpired downstairs had finally died down. Poppy had joined the Weasleys for a little while to discuss the complicated household dynamics, trying to help them figure out some kind of solution. In the end they'd just decided to hope for the best and keep a close eye on things, knowing that little else could be done at this stage. Remus was not at his best; they were all in agreement on that, but they knew that his heart was mostly in the right place and hoped that he'd come to his senses soon enough. They intended to help him in this regard, gently guiding him away from the black and white thinking that had lately overwhelmed his better judgement. They knew that he was a reasonable enough man deep down, and hoped that they could bring that out in him again. They knew that they had their hands full with the approach of the full moon, so they decided that whatever stronger tactics they'd suggested would have to wait until the waning period. Hopefully it wouldn't even come to that.

Nobody really knew what to do about Hermione, other than being as accommodating as possible while she settled back in to life among them. Poppy had insisted that she needed a wand in order to find herself, and Bill and Fleur had agreed with the idea in theory, but were reluctant to carry through with it in practice. Remus didn't want to take any risks until they knew what they were dealing with, especially now that Snape was in the house. Remus had no doubt that, if Hermione had access to a wand, Snape would take the opportunity to manipulate her into doing his bidding, perhaps even helping him escape. He wouldn't take such a risk until they'd cleared Snape once and for all. In the meantime, though, Hermione was at a clear disadvantage, and everybody knew it.

As far as Snape was concerned, the three couldn't form any kind of true consensus. Poppy was the only one convinced that he was innocent, and that he would prove as much in time. Bill and Fleur wanted to trust him, but weren't going to take any chances until they were sure. Fleur had no problem with the thought of him and Hermione carrying on with each other in private, especially since it meant that she wouldn't have to deal with any more of Nina's inappropriate behavior around her husband. Bill was a little less comfortable with the idea, since he wasn't sure how in control of herself Hermione really was, and didn't like the chance that Snape might take advantage of her, even if it wasn't done deliberately. Though the women had seemed to think that Hermione was well enough to know her own mind, neither of them had witnessed the disconcerting look in Hermione's eyes that he'd had occasion to witness. He'd seen the exact moment when her concupiscent gaze had turned into a look of heartbreaking shame for a mere second or two before changing back again, and the memory of that passing look had haunted him. He knew that some part of Hermione had deeply regretted the way she'd been acting around him, but had allowed Nina to shamelessly redirect such regret into self-serving rebellion. _Supposing she woke up one day and realized that she'd seduced Snape out of some kind of desperation, or had allowed herself to be seduced for the same reason— wouldn't she regret it? Wouldn't she wish that someone had stopped her from going so far? This was __**Snape **__she was cavorting with, after all; who in their right mind __**wouldn't **__regret waking up next to that guy? _Bill just didn't like taking that chance, and felt especially uncomfortable about allowing it to happen in his own home. Though his wife had argued that all women were subject to such regrets over their chosen lovers, he still felt that these circumstances called for special consideration.

Now all three were back in their beds, having put off any further discussion until they had a better understanding of the situation. Bill and Fleur slept soundly behind their heavily-warded door (_"better not to take any chances," _Bill had said), while Poppy needed no such security measures to fall asleep peacefully.

...

Despite Bill's precautions, Severus had no intention of killing anyone in their sleep. He was just on the verge of snoring when a soft shifting noise startled him into alertness, causing him to instinctively summon his wand. When he found himself grasping at empty air once again, his momentary alarm turned into a new sort of panic when he realized that Hermione was standing at the foot of his bed, motioning for him to be quiet before carefully climbing onto the mattress and crawling toward him.

"_What do you think you're doing?" _he whispered harshly, half-heartedly wanting to scare her off.

"_Shhh..." _she whispered back, hunching forward as she sat on her knees, on top of the blankets, _"...be quiet, or they'll hear us."_

"_You can't just sneak in here like this," _Severus warned her. _"Go back to your room."_

"_No!" _she hissed, _"We made it in here; now we're staying!"_

"_We?" _Severus asked, his raised eyebrow almost unseen in the darkness.

"_I told her this was a bad idea," _Hermione started apologizing, _"But Nina insisted..."_

"_Nina?" _Severus asked, becoming more confused by the second.

"_Oh, don't listen to her," _Nina assured him, leaning forward to whisper seductively against Severus' ear, _"She's just self-conscious because she's never given a blow job before. I told her that I'd guide her through it."_

"_What's going on?" _Severus hissed, taking her by the shoulders, _"Nina's still there? Which one are you, right now?"_

"_Both," _she replied. When Severus just stared back at her with incomprehension, she elaborated, _"We're both still in here, but not all the time. Usually one of us will take over for a while, but the other is still always close by. We can talk to each other, now."_

"_Which one of you is speaking, now?" _Severus asked, furrowing his brows as he peered at the girl before him, wondering which personality was addressing him.

"_I am... Hermione," _she answered, a little shyly. _"It's usually me, but sometimes Nina speaks through me."_

"_And she can direct your actions, as well?" _Severus asked, suddenly worried about which one of them had really responded to his touch earlier that evening. If there was any question about Hermione's consent, he'd have to be much more careful around her.

"_Sort of," _she answered. _"I can usually hold her off if I need to, but sometimes she can overrule me. That is, unless I give all control over to her, which has happened a few times."_

"_Is that what happened earlier tonight?" _Severus asked thickly.

"_Oh, no..." _Hermione insisted, _"...that was mostly all me," _she confessed with slight embarrassment. _"Are you disappointed?" _she asked quietly.

Severus hesitated before responding, just as quietly, _"No."_

Hermione smiled at him then, and either Severus' eyes chose that exact moment to adjust to the darkness, or her smile seemed to light up the room by a fraction. Reflected moonlight from outside afforded some small degree of illumination, but the pair were mostly shrouded in blackness. The lack of visibility made Hermione's task seem a little less daunting than it had when Nina had vehemently suggested it to her.

"_Good," _she whispered, scooting back a little, _"then please go ahead and take off your pants, if you would."_

"_I beg your pardon?" _he choked.

"_Oh, c'mon, Severus," _Nina interjected, her identity apparent in her deviated speech pattern, _"no more talking; this would be so much easier if you just shut up and drop your pants. I promise it'll be worth your while."_

"_I don't think this is a good idea..." _Severus tried, attempting to ignore the swelling that had begun in his groin at the very notion that Hermione had snuck into his bed to suck him off.

'_He's going to need some encouragement,' _Nina mentally prompted Hermione, _'you should try kissing him.'_

'_Me?' _Hermione protested weakly, nervousness seizing her belly again. _'But this was your idea! YOU kiss him...'_

'_Do you want to learn how to do this, or not?' _Nina demanded, _'Foreplay is essential; kissing will get him started up — trust me. If you can't even kiss the guy, then you have no business trying to suck his cock.'_

Severus was a little afraid that Hermione had taken his last words to heart, and had changed her mind. Though he thought it was for the best, he lamented the fact that his burgeoning arousal would not be content to dissipate anytime soon. Just the fact that Hermione had propositioned him like this would keep him awake for hours, yet...

He was just about to advise Hermione to return to her room again when she suddenly rose up and crawled toward him, this time climbing right into his lap as she straddled him over the bedcovers. She was moving a little awkwardly, clearly uncertain about what she was planning to do, but determined to carry through with it nonetheless.

As she leaned forward and hovered over him, her breath fanning across his face, Severus squinted at the shape of her head, trying to read her emotions in the darkness. _"You don't have to do this," _he whispered softly.

"_I want to," _she whispered back before lowering her mouth to his, her petal-soft lips pressing sweetly against the firm lines of his mouth. Severus closed his eyes as he absorbed her kiss, a small series of firecrackers exploding in his belly as he registered the thrill of her inexperienced tenderness. Nina might be guiding her, but he knew that this was not the kiss of the worldly seductress. This was all _Hermione_; a sweet little thing possessing the mentality of a repressed sixteen year-old with the body and the instincts of a sexually developed young woman. It was a confusing combination, but he couldn't deny that it was enticing. _This is what she needs after all, isn't it? To explore her unformed sexuality, in order to merge with Nina? _Though Severus wasn't completely convinced that letting her suck his cock would be conducive to her psychological growth, he wasn't about to dismiss the possibility, either. If he pushed her away now, there was no telling what kind of repercussions might follow... _he couldn't have her doubting her sexual potency, could he?_

As Hermione drew back slightly, Severus' lips parted with a small gasp, encouraging Hermione to lock her lips onto his again as he gently cupped the side of her face, tilting her head a fraction before tugging her bottom lip between his. He released it with a small _pop,_ licking along the plump flesh with the tip of his tongue as she inhaled a little shakily. Severus' fingers weaved into Hermione's hairline as he bit down on her lower lip, reveling in her tiny gasp before snaking his tongue into her mouth, coaxing hers forward. She tasted of vanilla, after devouring a quarter of Fleur's biscuits in a post-orgasmic sugar rush. Her tongue was hesitant against his continued probing, but willing enough. He could tell that she was paying close attention to every detail of their kiss, trying to learn the logistics. He had no doubt that she'd be adept in no time; meanwhile, he planned to milk her inexperience for all it was worth. There was definitely a certain thrill in being the one to teach her.

Slipping his hand down the side of her face, Severus broke the kiss, skimming his fingertip across Hermione's slightly swollen lip. As she instinctively opened her mouth in response, Severus slipped his index finger inside, shivering when her lips closed around him and dragged back slowly.

'_Ask him if he likes the way your mouth feels,' _Nina instructed.

'_What for?' _Hermione questioned.

'_Just do it! Trust me!' _Nina insisted.

"_Do you like how that feels?" _Hermione whispered, her self-conscious breathiness coming off as sensual rather than nervous.

"_Uuunghh..." _Severus uttered in response. It sounded enough like an affirmation...

'_Now ask him if he wants to feel it again, and take two of his fingers into your mouth this time, but do it slowly...' _Nina advised.

"_Do you want to feel it again?" _Hermione asked, taking Severus' large hand in hers and positioning two of his fingers in front of her lips. When he just made another weird noise in response, she took it as a 'yes,' and began slowly dragging her lips over the outstretched digits. She felt Severus buck up slightly beneath her, and tightened the grip of her thighs around the lump of his body to steady herself. This made him breathe in harshly as she took his fingers as deeply into her mouth as they reached before pulling back, running her tongue along their sensitive underside as she went.

'_Now you're getting it; that's the way,' _Nina encouraged her, _'he's ready, now. Ask him if he wants to put his cock in your mouth.'_

'_I can't say that!' _Hermione protested.

'_Of course you can; don't think about it, just do it!'_

Hermione's stomach twisted and her face turned bright red, but fortunately her blush was hidden in the darkness. _Why was this so difficult for her? Surely she'd done harder things in her life than saying the word 'cock' in front of her former professor..._

"_Do you... want to put your cock in my mouth?" _she whispered, so quietly that anyone who wasn't already concentrating intensely on her mouth might have missed the words coming out of it. Severus hadn't missed a thing. As said cock swelled to its full size at her suggestion, Severus ran the pad of his thumb over her lips again. _So sweet..._

"Yes," he answered lowly, forgetting to whisper. She giggled nervously as she shushed him, pressing a finger over his mouth in warning. He opened his mouth and bit down on the tip, causing her to pull back her hand quickly as she wriggled off his lap. Severus pulled back the blankets for her, exposing his tented pants. He sat still as Hermione hesitated beside him before inching closer to his bulge, swallowing thickly before slowly reaching out to touch it, shakily inhaling as her fingertips lightly traced down the length of it.

'_I'm not so sure about this,' _she thought, considering Severus' daunting size.

'_It's going to be a big job, but not impossible,' _Nina assured her. _'Just take it slowly. You can do this.'_

As Hermione tried to summon her nerve, Severus reached into his pants and pulled out his impressive erection, tugging his pants down until he was able to kick them out of the way. The air in the room was a bit chilly to lay there exposed as he was, but just knowing what Hermione was planning to do kept him hot and hard.

'_Go on; touch it,' _Nina encouraged her, prompting Hermione to reach out and gently feel Severus' heavy organ, her fingertips ghosting over the remarkably soft skin, feeling it swell and constrict beneath her touch. The veins running just beneath the fragile skin became more prominent as her exploratory touches continued, and she noticed that Severus was breathing tightly.

'_Am I hurting him?' _she worried, wondering why he had gone so stiff.

'_No, you're doing fine,' _Nina assured her, _'but he probably can't wait much longer while you tickle him like that. You're going to have to use your mouth now; try tasting the head, but make sure you keep your teeth out of the way.'_

Leaning forward, Hermione carefully held the thick base of the penis in one hand as if it might break, steadying it as she lowered her mouth to the tip and held it precariously between her parted lips, her warm breath touching it first before her soft tongue met with the hard flesh, skimming over it lightly as she tasted the salty pre-cum that had started dripping out. She startled slightly as his cock twitched in her hand, and Severus inhaled deeply.

'_Do it again,' _Nina instructed, _'longer this time...'_

Hermione dutifully obeyed, lowering her mouth again to sweep her tongue across the head, breathing hotly on it as she withdrew. Severus made a small noise above her, causing a thrill of excitement to rush through her. _She was pleasing him..._

'_Okay, now put the whole head in your mouth and swirl your tongue around it,' _Nina directed her, _'—treat it like it's a piece of candy; lick it good, but watch those teeth...'_

Hermione complied, her mouth watering at the sensation as her tongue laved the rim of the mushroom head, causing Severus to mutter a curse under his breath.

"_That's it," _he whispered harshly, his hips bucking slightly as she pulled back.

'_Now take it deeper,' _ Nina insisted, _'use your lips to cover your teeth while you go down on it, then drag your tongue along the shaft as you draw back, pressing it against the roof of your mouth.'_

'_How deep?' _Hermione wondered.

'_As deep as you can on the first go,' _Nina answered. _'Don't freak out; it won't choke you if you go slowly. Just concentrate...'_

Steeling her nerve again, Hermione lowered her mouth over the head, slipping her lips over her teeth as she dropped down, guiding the hard flesh into the cavern of her mouth as she carefully descended, testing to see how far she could go. As soon as the head hit against the back of her throat she became uncomfortable, her jaw open as wide as it could, her lips stretching around Severus' girth. She began pulling back, dragging her tongue along the shaft as best as she could. Severus had placed his hand on her back at one point, rubbing her encouragingly and groaning as she kneeled beside his hip. Her position at this angle allowed her more control than she would have had if she'd straddled his legs while he lay there, and had the added bonus of affording him a partial view of her backside when she leaned over him.

'_That was good; now lick down the shaft from top to bottom — get it as wet as you can... it'll make things easier on you,' _Nina suggested.

Hermione immediately complied, tenderly licking her way around the thick organ as Severus bit down hard on his lip, simultaneously enthralled with and tortured by her gentle technique. Despite his pressing urge to just grab hold of her head and pump into her sweet little mouth with abandon, there was a definite thrill in allowing her to explore his cock with her unlearned mouth, even if it made his balls ache for more.

Once he was sufficiently slick, Hermione went down on him again, this time relaxing her throat as per Nina's instructions so that she could take him deeper. As she became more comfortable with the intrusion, she was able to build up a slow but steady rhythm, taking Nina's advice and using her free hand to form a ring around the base of the shaft with her thumb and forefinger, working the full length as she bobbed up and down (_'use the hand as an extension of the mouth,' _Nina had instructed, _'until he can't tell where your lips end and your hand begins'..._). This technique proved effective, as Severus' sounds of pleasure became more pronounced.

"_That's it..." _he'd whisper, "_like that... good... easy, easy..."_

Confused as to whose instructions she should be paying closer attention to, Hermione wavered between the two teachers.

'_Don't pay him much attention,' _Nina helpfully advised, _'—he's getting his cock sucked; he's delirious. Just stay focused...'_

As Hermione pulled back to catch her breath, releasing the head of his cock with a satisfying _pop, _Severus' hand began stroking her silk-clad backside, his fingers playing with the seams of her underwear.

'_Don't get distracted,' _Nina warned as Hermione's own arousal increased exponentially at the touch, _'we're almost there... go down on him again, quickly, and use that hand to start playing with his balls while you swirl the head with your tongue...'_

Immediately complying, Hermione dropped back down and began swirling her tongue as she cupped Severus' heavy sac in her hand, feeling them constrict as her laving became more enthusiastic.

'_Here we go,' _Nina alerted her as his balls hardened and began to disappear.

'_What's happening? Where are they going?' _Hermione wondered.

'_Never mind that, he's almost there! Swallow that cock!' _Nina insisted, spurring Hermione into action.

Dropping down around the slick shaft again, Hermione worked her hand, tongue and lips in tandem, building up another steady rhythm as Severus moaned and bucked beneath her. She maintained her tempo despite his attempt to hurry her, focusing on her training. Severus couldn't hold back for much longer; she was gradually pushing him over the edge with her sweet, unpracticed strokes — her earnest concentration and determination to please him more erotic than any kind of fellatio he'd ever received from more skilled partners. The hot juices of her mouth bathed him in liquid gold, as warm as sunlight, her puffed lips and soft tongue swirling around him like billowy clouds. He'd never had it done so gently before. It was heavenly.

Slipping a long finger inside Hermione's wet folds as she bobbed over him, he was rewarded with a low moan that vibrated from deep in her throat, sending pleasurable spasms over his sensitized flesh. He gurgled a noise of pleasure in response, prompting her to moan louder as he slipped a second finger inside of her, simultaneously flexing his hips until he felt his cock slide deeper down her throat. As she gagged in response to the intrusion, Severus hissed out a tight curse as he came suddenly, his free hand holding her head down while his hot seed spurted down her throat as she choked around him, the constrictions of her throat milking him completely.

As Severus started to relax, he gently guided Hermione's head off of him as she gasped for breath. He rubbed her back soothingly as he lay back on his pillow and panted, his eyes closed in bliss.

"Are you all right?" he asked quietly, hoping that he hadn't traumatized her.

"Yes," she coughed, wiping the moisture away from her swollen mouth before swiping at the tears in her eyes.

"_You did very well," _Severus breathlessly commended her, drawing her forward to lie on his chest as their breathing steadied.

...

As the couple relaxed in each other's arms, neither noticed the distant glow of a cigarette as a man took a long drag from his position on a sand dune far beneath the bedroom window. Though Remus rarely used them, he kept a little case of hand-rolled cigarettes on him on the off chance that he'd need their relief around the full moon. His wife hated smelling them on him, and hated them even worse when she tasted them on his breath after kissing him. Since she wouldn't be kissing him anytime soon, Remus felt that he could afford a cigarette tonight.

As the roar of the ocean filled his ears, Remus squinted his eyes at the dark window high above him. He was no fool. He knew that something was going on up there, and that the guilty party thought that they were getting away with it. _We'll see about that, _he told himself. Come tomorrow, Severus Snape— that slimy, lecherous blackguard— would have to answer for his transgressions. _We'll see just how audacious he is when he has to explain himself to Minerva McGonagall..._

...

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: **__Severe weather advisory for coming chapters — warning in effect — expect stormy conditions with a strong chance of lemons..._


	49. Chapter 49

Chapter 49

.

Severus was standing in a dark room with a light emanating from the center, but he couldn't see where it was coming from at first since there was a large group of men crowded around its source. The men were murmuring in low voices and Severus could make out the occasional obscenity as he made his way toward them. Whatever they were looking at had them buzzing with a dark, muted kind of excitement.

As Severus made his way through the crowd, he realized that the men were grouped around a large glass box, and that something inside the box was making it glow. He couldn't see what was inside from his position, so he continued to push his way through. When he finally cleared the huddled throng, what he found made him freeze in his tracks.

Inside the box was a stand draped in blood red velvet; kneeling on top of the stand was Hermione. She looked young — as young as she had when Severus had last taught her. She was partially dressed in her Hogwarts uniform, and was slowly undressing for the benefit of the crowd. The men leered at her as she unfastened the buttons of her shirt, gradually revealing her bare chest. Severus watched along with the rest of them as she peeled back the white fabric, her small, pert breasts seeming to glow of their own accord as every inch of revealed skin made the glass box shine a little brighter.

The murmuring of the crowd became more robust as Hermione leaned back on her velvet pedestal and lifted her skirt, flashing her plain cotton panties. The only clothing left above her waist was the red and gold Gryffindor tie around her neck, which trailed between her breasts as she wriggled out of her underwear, pushing them down to her knees as the crowd worked themselves into a lather over the sight of her completely shaved pussy. Hermione bit her lip as she reached behind herself and unfastened her skirt, reclining back against the velvet as she pushed it down and off her legs along with her panties. She was wearing nothing now but her neck tie and knee socks, and returned to a kneeling position on the pedestal as she ran her hands over her body while the crowd shoved up against the glass for a better view. Severus found himself pushed up against the glass along with them, just another spectator as he stared, transfixed, at the sight of Hermione gently manipulating her pink folds with one hand, the other playing with a slightly puffy nipple. Her eyes were closed, though he wanted her to look at him; to recognize him as someone other than just another prurient stranger.

As he watched her, waiting for her to open her eyes and acknowledge his presence, Severus listened to the running commentary of his fellow spectators:

"_Isn't she something?"_

"_Sweet from head to toe..."_

"_Perfect body..."_

"_Like candy."_

"_Check out those ripe little tits..."_

"_What a savory delight..."_

"_Just like that, baby..."_

"_C'mon, girl; show us that pussy..."_

"_That's the stuff..."_

"_Way to hurt a man!"_

_"She's killing me..."  
><em>

"_Lord have mercy..."_

"_Such a tender little morsel..."_

"_So delish... my favorite flavor..."_

As the atmosphere became increasingly heated, Severus could hardly take it anymore. He had to do something. He shoved his way around the glass perimeter, looking for a way in. After several circuits though, he realized that the box was entirely sealed off; he couldn't find any way of getting in or out. His frustration was mounting as the crowd only became more vulgar, their comments turning more explicit by the second. Severus began to pound on the glass, but Hermione took no notice. The crowd followed suit, pounding on the glass enthusiastically. Severus pounded harder, trying to break through.

Before he realized what had happened he was standing in the box behind Hermione, having managed to push his way through the glass somehow. He was completely naked now. He could hear the dull roar of the crowd through the unbroken glass as they cheered him on, as if he were one of them.

Hermione turned suddenly and looked at him, her eyes widening in surprise.

"Professor Snape!" she gasped, "What are you doing here? Have you come to rescue me?"

Severus narrowed his eyes at her, unaccountably irritated by her assumption.

"Such a little fool," he drawled, not knowing where his words were coming from.

"Sir?" she asked, looking to him in confusion as he approached her.

"Where's that vaunted intelligence of yours now, Miss Granger?" he replied teasingly, gripping her chin in his long fingers as she stared back at him with worried eyes, "You should know better than to expect salvation from a Death Eater."

As her eyes shot down his arm and widened at the sight of his Dark mark, Severus suddenly grabbed Hermione by the waist and lifted her off of her velvet pedestal, slamming her body against the wall as he pressed against her, pinning her to the glass as the crowd went wild.

"What are you doing?" she asked him quietly, not appearing as frightened of him as he now expected her to be.

Severus looked into her eyes as he pressed her against the glass, searching for the fear and judgement that ought to have been there. Instead he only found confusion and an unsettling sort of compliance. In answer to her question, he positioned his erection beneath her, preparing to penetrate her. He watched her eyes soften in understanding.

"I'm glad it's you, then," she quietly assured him. He wondered what she meant by that.

_Why wasn't she intimidated by him? _With a growl of domination, Severus thrust up into her. She cringed against the initial assault, but focused her gaze intently on Severus again as he continued his savage thrusting, pounding her body against the glass as the crowd cheered him on. He looked down and saw blood and faltered for a moment as he realized that she'd been a virgin, before shaking off his concern and thrusting into her even harder than before.

"It's all right, professor," she assured him in a tight voice, fighting to overcome her discomfort, "—do whatever you have to do. _I trust you_..."

Severus woke with a start, sweat coating his brow and his naked body tangled in the bed sheet. Hermione was dozing beside him, waking slightly as he sat up and stared out into the dark room as his jumbled thoughts returned to reality. It was early in the morning; the sun would start rising soon.

"_Hermione, wake up,_" he coaxed her quietly, touching her shoulder as she blinked in confusion. "You have to go back to your room now. The others will be waking soon."

Hermione made a tired noise of protest before reluctantly pulling herself into a sitting position, rubbing her eyes as she looked at Severus' dark form.

"I don't want to leave," she said quietly. "Can't I stay a little longer?"

Severus swallowed thickly as he imagined what she wanted to stay for; _he couldn't... not now... _Though his body was saying otherwise, he didn't want to keep her in his bed that morning.

"The others will skin me alive if they find you in here," Severus urged. "Please; you must go."

With a sad little smile of regret, Hermione nodded in compliance before tugging the blankets away. Before she slipped out of the bed, she turned to Severus and looked at him strangely before rising up and giving him a quick kiss. She smiled at him shyly as she pulled back, and he softly caressed her cheek. Even in the dark she could see the want in his eyes for her, though there was a stiffness in his posture that belied his wish to be alone. Without another word, she quietly crept around the bed and out the door, her careful footsteps barely detectable as she disappeared back into her own room.

Severus sat in the dark for a long moment, keenly feeling the loss of her presence. The room felt colder and smaller without her in it. As he lay back down he thought of his disturbing nightmare, recalling the details as he tried to piece it all together, trying to fathom what it might mean. He was still dwelling on it when the sun came up and someone emerged to use the upstairs bathroom, the sound of running water chasing away his blurry memories of shining glass and blood red velvet.

...

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: **__Sorry this was so short; I've got a much bigger one in the works that's not ready yet. Just wanted to let you guys know that I started working full-time, but the position is only temporary — regular updates should continue by mid-February, if not sooner... _


	50. Chapter 50

Chapter 50

.

"He didn't say where he was going?" Fleur asked her husband as she tightened her elegant robe around her slender frame, before casually flicking her wand toward the hearth as the kindling flames responded to her command. The room lit up with a flash of green before the fire settled back down to a warm orange glow, now burning brighter and hotter.

"No, he didn't," Bill replied, clearing his throat when his voice sounded gravelly. "Wherever it was, he looked right determined to get there. Wouldn't even wait for me to heat the kettle... he just gave me one of those looks of his, grabbed his coat and told me he'd be back in a bit."

"Did he look all right to you?" Poppy inquired as she settled into the seat Fleur had offered her at the kitchen table, gratefully accepting a steaming cup of Lady Grey.

"Well, now that you mention it, he didn't look very rested for a man who'd just climbed out of bed," Bill answered, settling into the opposite seat. "I'm guessing he probably didn't sleep too well, if at all."

"I'm not surprised; that sofa is too lumpy," Fleur stated mater-of-factly as she set down a plate of fresh scones before sitting beside her husband.

"I don't think it was the sofa, dear," Bill murmured, taking up a butter knife as he pulled apart one of the warm pastries. "I'm sure he just has a lot on his mind."

Fleur glanced meaningfully toward the top of the stairs before looking back at her husband, pushing the clotted cream toward him as he confirmed her guess with a nod. Poppy hadn't missed the silent interaction; all three were well aware of Remus' preoccupation with the other two house guests. They sat together in mutual understanding, sipping tea and preparing scones as a pregnant silence hung ponderously over the kitchen table. A creak from an overhead floorboard finally broke the tension, or perhaps increased it, as three sets of eyes simultaneously darted toward the sound.

"Someone's awake," Bill commented unnecessarily before biting into a cream and jam-smothered cake.

The trio exchanged a round of looks as they quietly waited to find out who was moving about upstairs. Eventually the sound of soft footfalls could be heard on the staircase, and Poppy turned casually toward the sound as her hosts fixed their gaze in its direction. All three watched as Hermione came into view, once again scantily dressed in nothing more than one of Fleur's silk slips — this time in a shade of deep burgundy — and another thick pair of grey woolen socks. Unlike previous mornings, however, the girl's hair was actually brushed this time, flowing in soft waves over her slim shoulders as she descended the stairs with a curious spring to her step. Her features weren't as pale and wan as usual, either, but were now glowing with renewed life, the dark circles under her eyes replaced with a sudden freshness. What's more, there was something about her mouth — a kind of expression, slight though it was — that seemed to hide a secret.

"Good morning," she offered with uncharacteristic cheer, smiling at the sight of the table spread. "Oh, those look delicious," she said brightly, her voice flowing with the light, youthful fluidity that reminded the company of the Hermione they used to know. "May I have one, Fleur?"

The hostess looked somewhat surprised for a moment before blinking the feeling away, darting a quick glance at her equally confused husband before gesturing toward the plate, "Of course you may; sit down. I'll get you some tea to go with it."

Hermione smiled at Poppy before sitting down beside her, ignoring the older woman's probing look. "I just love fresh scones," Hermione declared happily, gingerly selecting one of the pastries before splitting it open with nimble fingers. Bill and Poppy watched her light movements as she set about preparing each half with clotted cream and strawberry jam, noting a decided jauntiness about her.

"Oh, thank you, Fleur," she said warmly as the hostess set down a cup of tea before placing the milk and sugar beside it.

"You're in an awfully good mood this morning," Fleur remarked suspiciously, though not unkindly. Hermione raised her eyebrows at the remark, her mouth taking on that secretive set to it again as she glanced innocently around the table and bit into her pastry, smiling brightly. After swallowing her mouthful, she finally replied, looking into the eyes of each onlooker, "I really do love fresh scones!", then flashed them all an rather mischievous smile before turning her attention to her tea.

The three others exchanged another series of glances that imparted surprise—and no small amount of suspicion—before each seemed to shrug off the anomalous behavior, returning to their own meals as they entered into a quiet discussion about mediwitch training at Beauxbatons Academy. Hermione didn't attempt to participate in the conversation, but sat politely as she finished her small meal, then took up a second scone after contemplating it for a moment. Nobody attempted to include her in the conversation, but instead the three older people passively tolerated her presence among them with the same gentle aloofness that adults often bestow upon well-behaved children. Hermione did not seem to mind, however, as her thoughts were clearly elsewhere.

After awhile, as the three others drifted into a conversation about mutual acquaintances that Hermione had neither heard of nor held any interest in whatsoever, she slumped back in her seat as a creeping boredom began to weigh down her earlier ebullience. Apparently Severus wasn't in any hurry to join the company downstairs. Hermione had just begun contemplating the sly urge to creep upstairs and seek him out herself when a sound at the back door signaled the arrival of Remus Lupin. Everyone quieted as they turned toward the sound, Bill reflexively drawing his wand as he rose from his seat to confirm that everything was in order. As he moved carefully toward the entryway, Hermione's heart beat faster as her ears picked up the slightest shifting of an overhead floorboard.

"It's all right, Bill," Remus announced in a strangely low tone as he sensed the tension of the occupants. "It's only me. Minerva is with me."

"Minerva?" Fleur questioned with some alarm, exchanging a surprised, somewhat troubled look with Poppy before flicking her eyes uneasily over Hermione, who had gone quite still.

All four seemed to hold their breath as the surprise visitor entered the room ahead of Remus, who was hanging up his coat with telling heaviness. Bill watched his friend with a mix of concern and wariness, wondering what had prompted him to bring Minerva in on the secret at this early stage.

"Well. I can see we're all clear that this isn't a social visit," Minerva commented brusquely as she looked around at the tense faces on each member of the small gathering. Her gaze paused as it landed on Hermione, reflecting the briefest moment of maternal concern before the witch reassumed the businesslike manner that she'd entered the room with.

"It's true, then; you're back with us," Minerva said softly. The older witch watched as Hermione struggled to keep her expression neutral, her eyes betraying her wariness as she regarded the woman across from her. "It is... most fortunate to see you returned safely, Miss Granger, though I understand that you've been through quite an ordeal. Mr Lupin has briefed me on the details involved in your reappearance, and I'm very sorry that we have to meet again under such circumstances... but, at the moment, we are all under far too much strain to allow you the time that you deserve to come to terms with all of this. I'm afraid that I'll have to get right to the point."

Minerva exhaled some of her tension as she took a moment to gather her thoughts, before glancing at the empty seat beside the stiff-bodied girl.

"Please sit down, Professor McGonagall," Fleur offered quietly. The older witch nodded at her before taking the seat, straightening the folds of her robe as she sat down beside Hermione.

"Can I get you a cup of tea?" Fleur asked, already moving toward the kitchen in anticipation of Minerva's answer.

"Thank you Mrs Weasley," the older witch replied, her lips pursed with clear tension as she prepared to assume the task she'd set out to perform. It had only been a couple hours since Remus had roused her from her bed, though she hadn't been asleep anyhow. So much had already been put into motion in that short time, and the strain of it all was difficult to keep in check even for a woman as disciplined as she.

"Miss Granger. Perhaps I should start by informing you that I promised to notify your parents as soon as I knew anything about your whereabouts. I've kept that promise, and have sent Mr Moody to escort them here immediately. They should be arriving soon."

Everyone watched as Hermione went very pale, her eyes taking on a skittishness that none of them had seen in her for some time since her recovery. Her mouth gaped wordlessly as she stared back at the older woman with a mix of overwhelming pain and horror.

"Professor... are you sure that's a good idea?" Bill quietly interrupted, immediately struck with sympathy for Hermione. "Hasn't Remus told you..."

"He's told me more than enough, Mr Weasley," Minerva replied with a hint of regret. "I assure you that I did not make the decision to bring them here lightly. I could have broken my promise if I felt that there was due cause, but under the circumstances I feel that this is the most appropriate action."

Several faces turned toward Remus then with looks of slight accusation, and the downtrodden man— already hunching somewhat guiltily in the shadows with his arms folded anxiously across his chest— turned away from their probing regard. Bill could tell that Remus wasn't happy about something; perhaps the decision to bring Hermione's parents into the equation hadn't gone over well with the werewolf.

"Minerva," Poppy gently interjected, setting down her tea cup as she leaned forward to face her former colleague, "Hermione is still suffering from a unique kind of shock... in my medical opinion—"

"I understand, Poppy," Minerva interrupted in an undertone, looking extremely uncomfortable to be having such a discussion across the table with Hermione between them, "but I'm afraid that this particular matter transcends all the standard protocols, including the medical. If the circumstances were any less strained, I would consider your advice. As it is, there is no room for anything less than immediate action."

"Why are Hermione's parents part of this 'immediate action'?" Fleur questioned, looking rather ruffled at the suggestion. "How are they involved in any of this? They've got nothing to do with the Order..."

"They are _involved,_ Mrs Weasley, because they are Miss Granger's legal guardians, as well as her family. It would be unconscionable— not to mention somewhat illegal— not to involve them in such a sensitive matter, especially one that pertains to Miss Granger's well being," the older witch responded sharply.

"I don't understand," Bill pressed, "what exactly are we talking about, here? Isn't Hermione of age? Why should you need her parents' involvement?"

"Miss Granger is hardly a legal adult, Mr Weasley," Minerva responded with authority. "I realize that she has come of age since her disappearance, but as I understand it, she has not come back to us fully formed and with all her wits intact. If there is any real chance that she's too mentally unstable to make important decisions on her own, then her parents' consent— as legal guardians— will be required in order for us to make any important decisions for her."

"What kind of decisions?" Hermione suddenly asked, her voice breaking slightly as her unexpected words startled everyone in the room. As Minerva turned to her with raised brows, Hermione shot the woman a dark look as she continued bitterly, "That's right, I can speak for myself. I want to know what kind of decisions you intend to make for me, should my... parents... grant you such authority."

Minerva looked somewhat abashed as she sized up the girl beside her, noting her almost scandalously casual ensemble. She seemed lucid enough at the moment, but from what Remus had told her, she wasn't about to overestimate her.

"Miss Granger, you must be aware that we are, presently, at war," Minerva started, carefully choosing her words as she addressed the dubiously calm young woman. "You must also know that you, yourself, play a large part in certain events that are still unfolding, and remain both a key target and an asset to each side. Should your position here with us be compromised in any way, a _great deal _would be at stake."

Hermione regarded the older witch with an intense sort of deliberation, unnerving everyone as unvoiced anxieties stormed behind her canny eyes. She knew that the woman was attempting to oversimplify a vastly complicated scenario, and was deliberately not mentioning an important aspect of the problem. _Severus._

"I've arranged for your parents to be brought here not only because I intend to keep a solemn promise, but also because we must be able to take future action without any question of rights or responsibilities regarding your welfare. Whatever happens next must not be subject to such questioning; you're either an ally under recuperation, whose mode of recovery is subject to our discretion, or you're a dependent under our custody. In the latter case, your parents may wish to dictate the terms of your recovery. I will offer them the opportunity to do so, should they insist. On the other hand... if your parents can be convinced that we are capable of assisting you with minimal interference in your... natural processes..." Minerva suggested, causing Remus to rub at the back of his neck, "...then we might be able to move past the issue of your autonomy more smoothly than we would otherwise, and can resume our business here with an efficiency that I'm certain will prove beneficial."

Hermione took in the meaningful look that her former professor was offering, recognizing it for the lifeline that it was. Her grim features softened minutely as a hesitant understanding dawned over her consciousness, letting a small light of hope burn through the thick darkness that had descended upon her. _Was it possible? Could McGonagall really be on her side, after all?_

...

Severus pressed his ear against the crack in the doorway, straining to listen to the conversation happening downstairs. Without the aid of magic, his eavesdropping skills were sorely lacking. He knew that Lupin had brought McGonagall back with him, but was struggling to figure out why she had come. _Was this about him, or about Hermione? ...Or worse... about him __**and**__ Hermione...?_

He could hazard a guess. This must be Lupin's way of acting out after what he'd walked in on the night before. If he had his wand back, there would be no end to the retaliatory measures Severus would take against the interfering dolt. As it was, he could only stand by and practice the malicious look that he'd turn on the man the moment he had him in his line of sight. _If looks could kill..._

Whatever the reason for bringing her here, Severus was certain that this meant trouble for him. Why nobody had stormed his room yet in a fit of self-righteous indignation was beyond him, but he felt that it was only a matter of time. Perhaps they meant to torture him by prolonging the inevitable. Unfortunately all the upstairs windows that he had access to were sealed against his departure, or else he would have attempted to flee by now. He wondered if he had any chance of slipping out the front door... _perhaps if he could manage to cause some sort of distraction..._

Then, of course, was the little matter of having nowhere to run to. He could only get so far without a wand... he knew that to attempt it would be nothing short of suicide. It wouldn't take long for the Order to find him, if Death Eaters didn't find him, first. _Though, that way, he wouldn't have to suffer through any humiliating confrontations... at least not right away... _

...

Hermione fixed an unfocused gaze on her plate of crumbs as Minerva continued to explain her objective, trying to pay attention to what was being said. Despite the urgency of the issue at hand, her concentration was becoming increasingly impaired as the imminent arrival of her parents provoked an anxiety in her that she hadn't known herself capable of. She couldn't discern whether her Nina side or her old side were more afraid of such a confrontation; both were in turmoil.

'_Let's get out of here,' _Nina insisted, her fear clawing from inside her chest like a boxed cat, _'just __**go**__...'_

'_I can't leave,' _Hermione answered, though her objection was weak, _'this might be my only chance... McGonagall seems to have a plan that could help us...'_

'_Don't tell me you trust that old lady for one moment!' _Nina protested, _'She isn't like us! She's only looking out for that Order of hers, can't you see that?'_

'_Even so, I think she might be able to offer us a way to be with Severus if I play my cards right... I just have to convince my... parents...'_

At the mention of her parents, Hermione shuddered as she and Nina simultaneously responded to the fear that the term invoked. Though a distant part of her missed them, the thought of seeing them now only filled her with an inexplicable terror.

"Are you all right, dear?" McGonagall asked, raising an eyebrow at the pale-faced girl as she noticed her trembling.

"Can I be excused for a moment?" Hermione responded flatly, gripping the table edge with both hands. McGonagall regarded her with worry, but nodded after a moment. Hermione did not hesitate to flee the table, locking herself in the downstairs loo and collapsing weakly on the floor.

'_This is a terrible idea,' _Nina argued, _'we can't go through with this. I don't want to see them.'_

'_We have to... they're our parents...'_

'_They're not __**my **__parents! I don't have any!' _Nina insisted as a rush of acid soured her stomach.

'_Please... we have to do this...' _Hermione tried helplessly, _'I don't want this any more than you do, but it's the only way...'_

'_Then you're on your own out there,' _Nina challenged, _'I won't go through that.'_

'_What do you mean?' _Hermione asked, starting to panic, _'Where will you go?'_

'_I can withdraw if I want to; I can go to sleep.'_

'_Oh... please don't,' _Hermione pleaded, _'I need you with me; we have to do this together!'_

'_I'll just get in the way,' _Nina argued, _'I'll just make trouble for you...'_

'_Please... I need your strength; I'm too vulnerable on my own, you know that!'_

'_I can't help you, kid,' _Nina apologized, _'I'm sorry... I just can't...'_

Hermione's panic became more physical as she felt Nina withdrawing further and further back, their shared connection becoming more feeble by the moment.

'_Don't leave... don't leave...' _she repeated, over and over until it became painfully apparent that she was only saying it to herself. Nina had departed into the depths of her unconscious mind, once again split from her immature personality. She felt incredibly alone, and suddenly quite cold. It was now embarrassingly obvious that she was underdressed.

...

Something was going on. Severus could hear the sound of light knocking, followed by gentle voices. It was the distinct sound of someone trying to coax another into doing something. _Hermione. What was the matter? Something must be wrong. Perhaps Minerva had upset her somehow..._

He knew that he might not get another chance like this; despite his concern over Hermione, he had to seize this opportunity while it was available to him, if only to preserve his own sanity. He couldn't help her anyways, not in his current position. He just needed to get away, if only for a short time... he just needed to feel in control again; to let them see that Severus Snape is not a man to wait by passively as others decide his fate. _Not anymore._

As he crept down the stairwell with all the sure-footed slyness that years of experience afforded him, Severus was relieved to note that there was nobody in sight. Their attention seemed focused elsewhere, leaving the area surrounding the front door wide open for him. It would be easier than he imagined; he could slip out now and nobody would be the wiser until they activated the magic tracer that Remus had supposedly placed on his person. In the meantime he'd be free to roam the beach, perhaps getting as far as Penzance. He figured it would be a better shot than Tinworth, since he had some advantage in being more familiar with the Muggle community. Even if the others caught up with him quickly, at least he'd know he'd tried, and his protest would be duly noted. If Remus had to go after him, he'd be satisfied to know that he'd at least caused the man some inconvenience.

Severus had no sooner slipped through the doorway than he felt the unmistakable hold of a binding curse seize his muscles, freezing him on the spot. His mind reeled from the unexpected sensation — ..._how?!_

"Well, well... lookie here!" a painfully familiar, all-too gleeful voice sounded from a short distance behind, "Seems I caught a snake slithering out of his hidey hole! Can't have that, can we? Ha! Nice try, Snape! Looks like we're gonna need a stronger leash for this one after all!"

"What's going on?" Mr Granger demanded, alarmed by the strange incident, "Who is that man, Mr Moody?"

"Him?" Mad-Eye chuckled, his wand still trained on the dark figure in flannel pyjamas as he approached him in a predatory circle, "Why, this here's Professor Snape! And isn't he a sight for sore eyes," Moody all but growled, barely keeping his animosity toward the dark wizard in check.

"That man's a teacher?" Mrs Granger inquired, clutching the collar of her coat as she exchanged a confused glance with her husband. "Then why are you addressing him in that manner?"

"Oh, me and Snape here are just having a little fun, aren't we? He's been a bad boy, you see... a very bad boy indeed..."

"Enough of that!" A shrill voice sounded from the partially open doorway before it swung open completely with the force of an exasperated spell, "Mr Moody, you will release Professor Snape immediately and be on your way!"

"I caught him lurking about!" Mad-Eye protested, begrudgingly dropping his binding curse, "I warned you about him!"

"I'm sure that Professor Snape was only out for a bit of _fresh air_... isn't that right, Professor?" McGonagall demanded, giving Severus an uncompromising look that he knew better than to contradict.

"Of course, _Professor_..." Severus complied, exchanging an awkward glance with his estranged colleague, "I found the atmosphere inside to be somewhat... oppressive."

"Well then, that clears that up," McGonagall briskly declared. "Mr Moody, I appreciate your assistance in delivering the Grangers as scheduled, but I'm sure that you have business to attend to now that's more urgent than tormenting our... guest," McGonagall said after a moment of hesitation, apparently attempting to alleviate the situation in front of the Grangers. "I'll contact you when they're ready to depart."

"But m'am, I'm telling you that this one..." Moody started in an undertone, unwilling to let Snape off so easily.

"You have your orders, Mr Moody," Minerva interjected in a tone that left no room for further discussion. With one last dark look at Snape, Moody grumbled something unintelligible before storming off toward the Apparation point. Mr and Mrs Granger watched after him in disbelief, unable to fathom the strange drama that had just played out before them. Turning their attention back to the somewhat ruffled man on the porch, the pair exchanged an uncomfortable glance as Severus became disturbingly aware that he was meeting Hermione's parents... _in flannel pyjamas._

"Mrs McGonagall, we'd like to see our daughter now," Mr Granger requested in a gravelly voice, his suspicious eyes still scrutinizing the man on the porch who was looking quite out of his element.

"Of course," Minerva replied, looking over Severus herself with a troubled expression as she gestured for the Grangers to enter, "please come in; would you join us, Professor?" she added uncomfortably. Severus' posture stiffened further as a look of anxiety flashed across his eyes, though he nodded in assent. He knew there was no way out, now. As the Grangers filed in ahead of him, looking him over again as they passed, Severus swallowed thickly as he prepared to face this most unexpected and unwanted situation. _If only he'd just stayed in his room..._

...

"Mr and Mrs Granger, I believe you've already met Mr and Mrs Weasley?" Minerva inquired, attempting politeness despite being thoroughly flustered over the events that had just transpired.

"Yes of course, hello again," Mrs Granger replied, nodding in turn with her husband at the host and hostess, who were standing with arms crossed outside the door to the loo. There was something in their expressions that indicated a problem at hand, and Mrs Granger's frantic eyes immediately searched the room for her daughter.

"And this is Poppy Pomfrey, a mediwitch who's here to—"

"_Mediwitch?_" Mr Granger demanded, "What's wrong? Is Hermione hurt?"

"Your daughter is perfectly all right, Mr Granger," Poppy assured him, "I'm only here to investigate her psychological condition."

"Where is she?" Mrs Granger asked desperately, "Please— can't we see her now?"

"Miss Granger is just through there, in the loo," Minerva answered quietly, peripherally noticing Severus' head turn sharply toward the closed door as his brows furrowed in consternation. "She's not feeling very well at the moment; it's only the shock of everything, I'm sure... perhaps if we could give her a little time to adjust..."

Mrs Granger was barely listening to the older woman as she fixed her gaze on the doorway, slowly moving toward it as her heart strained with the realization that her daughter was so close by. Her eyes filled with tears as her husband tightly gripped her hand, unable to budge from his place as he stared at the doorway with a mix of apprehension and disbelief. Everyone watched as Mrs Granger's lip wobbled as she turned to face her petrified husband, giving him a pleading look before tugging her hand free from his grasp. His hand hovered mid-air as he released her, watching with sunken eyes as his wife turned bravely back toward the closed doorway, shaking as she moved ever closer to the wooden barrier. When at last she reached it, she placed a hand tentatively to the door as her strained voice managed to whisper, "_Hermione, dear... are you in there? It's your mum..."_

Everyone seemed to hold their breath as they waited for some kind of response, but heard nothing but silence behind the door. The moment stretched on for an unbearable duration as everyone waited for Hermione to take the next step. When nothing happened, Mrs Granger eventually turned around with sad eyes to stare beseechingly at her husband. After a tense hesitation, he called out with an authority that didn't convince anyone, least of all himself, "Hermione love, it's your father. Please come out of there."

When another long moment stretched out in which nothing whatsoever happened, Mrs Granger recoiled from the doorway in tears to flee to the arms of her husband. Everyone looked away in discomfort as the man attempted to console his wife, though it was clear that he was in need of consolation himself.

"Why won't she come out?" Mrs Granger rasped, pulling a tissue from her pocket to wipe furiously at her tear-streaked face. Her husband just rubbed soothing circles across her back in response, looking painfully unsure of himself. Just when it seemed that all was lost, a small sound was heard behind the door, and the slow click of a latch being unlocked rang out across the quiet space. After another moment of hesitation, the doorknob slowly began to turn.

Everyone did hold their breath then as the door creaked open little by little, until a stricken-faced Hermione could be seen in the shadows with one arm clutching her stomach. Nobody said a word as she slowly pushed the door out of the way, her free arm quickly joining the other to cross protectively against her chest. She was shaking slightly, and assiduously avoiding eye contact.

Severus felt his heart lurch in his chest as he took in the sorry sight of her, wanting desperately to offer some kind of comfort, though he dared not make a move toward her in the present company. As if sensing his thought, Hermione's eyes briefly darted to his, causing his to widen before the pair exchanged a momentary look of shared desolation. Hermione swallowed thickly and her face flushed as she dropped her gaze back to the floor, and several sets of eyes glanced suspiciously in Severus' direction. Mr and Mrs Granger, however, were too shocked at the appearance of their decidedly grown-up daughter to notice anything other than the long-awaited, bittersweet sight of her standing in front of them.

"_Hermione_," her mother whispered, her face expressing a myriad of emotions before finally settling on immense relief. As she broke down in a cathartic fit of tears, she rushed to her daughter and threw her arms around her, sobbing and shaking uncontrollably as she seemed to want to hold the girl so tightly that she'd envelop her completely. Her husband soon joined her as the pair dropped to the floor under the weight of the emotional strain, and the three made up a strange sort of animal sobbing and shaking in a tangle of limbs and tears while the other occupants of the room averted their eyes in discomfort at the emotional outpouring.

Bill guided his wife into the kitchen as they tried to find something to distract themselves with, and Poppy looked to Minerva in mutual impotency as they wondered if they ought to leave the three family members alone until they'd calmed down. Severus stared fixedly at the floor, practicing his Occlumency as he fought to regain some sense of dignity in the face of so much awkwardness. He was fully aware that Lupin was staring straight at him from his position on the far side of the room, but he wisely avoided meeting his gaze, lest he allow his temper to rise at a most inopportune moment. If he thought for one moment that the werewolf was enjoying his discomfort... if he found any indication of mockery in the man's loathsome face... '_this is not the time,' _he reminded himself. '_I'll deal with him later.'_

...

The next couple of hours went by in a flurry of confusion, emotion and failed attempts to settle into any semblance of hospitality. Tea and other refreshments were passed out, but sat untouched. Explanations were demanded, provided, and ultimately refused. Tensions were running high, and no one was spared.

At one point it became clear to Severus that Hermione was cold, and seemed uncomfortable addressing her parents in her negligee. He silently excused himself to retreat up the stairs, entering her bedroom to seek out some kind of cover-up. When he spotted the denim jacket hanging on the bedpost, he snatched it up without a second thought and quickly returned to the living room, stiltedly offering the garment without a word. Three sets of unnervingly identical eyes glanced up at the unexpected offering, and Hermione took the jacket from him without comment. Severus swallowed uncomfortably as he sought something in her eyes that he could not find, and turned away with a troubled expression. _Had he done something wrong? Why had she looked at him like that?_

Mrs Granger helped her daughter shrug into the odd choice of clothing, scrutinizing the worn patches that adorned the back and sleeves. A large red mouth with an oversized tongue hanging out... thorny roses... a skull and crossbones... shaggy looking, multi-colored bears... the words "BLACK SABBATH" in an overly dramatic typeface... a sigil of Baphomet...

"Is this yours, dear?" the woman asked skeptically, frowning when her daughter nodded with a slight shrug of her shoulders. _Where on earth did she find such an atrocious garment? _Mrs Granger decided she was probably better off not knowing...

Eventually, Minerva managed to get everyone together at the kitchen table for a necessary discussion. She insisted that everyone be present, and Severus was the last to join the unorthodox company, choosing a seat furthest away from everyone else. He was still dressed in his flannels, having nothing else to change into. Though he'd considered approaching Bill about the matter, he'd been unwilling to admit his incredible awkwardness to anyone, and so he remained in his bedclothes for the reluctant meeting.

Fortunately Minerva did most of the talking, appealing to Remus when there were blanks to be filled in. Poppy was asked to weigh in on Hermione's psychological state, and provided a generous account of facts. Nobody mentioned Severus' role in anything other than being the one who found Hermione, for which Mr and Mrs Granger were unbearably effusive in their appreciation. Remus had scowled at this, but a warning look from Minerva kept him silent. Apparently, Severus was to be painted as a hero in front of the Grangers. He supposed it was preferable to the alternative.

The glances Hermione would direct toward him on occasion throughout the discussion were more than troubling. He knew that something was wrong, but he had no way of finding out what it was. She seemed uncommonly sad, and incredibly vulnerable. _Like a lost little girl..._ The way that her father repeatedly referred to her as his 'little girl' was acutely irritating as it reinforced this perception, and Severus wasn't sure whether it was because of the possessive quality of his tone, or the distastefulness of the phrase itself.

"I understand your predicament, Professor, but I don't want my little girl getting mixed up in any more of your schemes. I'm sorry, but I won't have it."

"Mr Granger, whether you want it or not, I'm telling you that your daughter is incontrovertibly 'mixed up' in it," Minerva explained with failing patience. "You must understand that this is beyond the both of us; what is happening _is_ happening, _now, _and the only way any of us can help her now is to help restore her to her full potential; I'm afraid that she needs us as much as we need her."

"You keep saying that, but it doesn't make any sense!" Mrs Granger protested, "She's just a little girl! How could she possibly be so important to your war?"

"Look at your daughter, Mrs Granger," Minerva urged. "She is _not _a child any longer. I grant that she is still very young, but she's not incapable of taking on adult responsibilities. From all that we've explained here, I'd hoped that you'd agree that she's capable of making her own decisions now."

"What do you want from us, exactly?" Mr Granger demanded, "Why do you even need our consent, given all the power you people enjoy? Why don't you just enlist our daughter in your precious cause, and tell us to shove off and be done with it?"

"Steven," Mrs Granger tried, placing a placating hand on her husband's arm.

"No, I have to say this," Mr Granger insisted, inhaling sharply as he summoned his nerve.

"It's all right, Mrs Granger," Minerva allowed, "It's a fair question. Your husband is right, of course. We _could_, if we wanted to, choose not to involve you in our affairs. However, that is not the way that I wish to do this. We do care about Miss Granger very much. Her disappearance affected all of us quite deeply. Please understand that I don't make any of these decisions lightly. The fact is that her cooperation is essential, and as such, we require yours. The only way this will work is if your daughter chooses to help us. We cannot force her to do anything she doesn't want to do. I've asked for you to consign her to our care so that we can grant her the opportunity to make these important decisions with your blessing. It's a matter of necessity as much as a matter of principle. It's time to set childhood aside and recognize her as an autonomous adult once and for all, to avoid any further confusion."

Everyone was quiet for a long beat as they considered the proposal, and were surprised when Hermione finally spoke without being prompted to contribute.

"I want to stay here. There's no going back now, mum. I'm sorry."

Another silence stretched out as Mrs Granger struggled to suppress an emotional response, her hand tightly fisted in her husband's.

"You need looking after, dear; proper care..." Mr Granger said quietly, "I'm just not sure they can give you that here... not with all this... conflict... going on..."

"I'll be all right, dad," Hermione quietly assured him. "Trust me. No one else can help me. I need to stay here."

Severus caught the very quick flick of Hermione's eyes in his direction, and felt a surge of something both gratifying and frightening fill his chest.

"She will be protected," he suddenly spoke out loud, surprising himself with his own voice. Everyone looked toward him with mixed reactions, and his eyes fixed themselves steadfastly on those of Hermione's father. A silent understanding seemed to pass between the two men before Mr Granger gently replied, "Do I have your word on that, sir?"

Severus nodded solemnly in reply, and the other man seemed appeased enough.

"Very well then."

"Steven?"

"This is the only way, dear," Mr Granger replied, stroking his wife's face. "I don't like it anymore than you, but it's the only way. Hermione has made her choice."

Mrs Granger looked to her daughter with fearful eyes as she choked back another sob, trying to reconcile the image of the little girl that she'd held in her bedraggled heart with that of the strange young woman beside her. The young woman in question did not meet her mother's sorrowful gaze, however, but was looking searchingly into the eyes of the dark man at the far side of the table. She knew that a promise had just been made, and not only between Severus and her father. Something unspoken had transpired between Severus and herself, across this table, on this dark day, in the presence of her mother and father and everyone else. She'd never be her father's little girl again. She belonged to someone else now. She'd chosen Severus, and she now understood that he'd chosen her right back.

...


	51. Chapter 51

Chapter 51

.

"Are you sure you don't need anything?" Hermione's mother asked again, stroking her daughter's hair as she regarded her with regret. "What about your books?" she tried, frowning when Hermione shook her head and stared down at the floor between them. Her mother paused for a moment before asking softly, "If you won't take any of your old clothes, how about some new ones? I can go shopping for outfits more suited to your taste, if you told me what to look for..."

"Really, mum. I'll be all right," Hermione said quietly. "Dad gave me more than enough money to take care of all that. You don't have to worry about me."

Gently lifting her daughter's chin until she met her eyes, Mrs Granger replied, "You're my daughter, Hermione. I'll always worry; that's my job."

As her daughter's eyes pricked with tears, Mrs Granger continued, "Just promise me one thing: promise me that—whatever you decide to do over here—you'll do it for the right reasons... Promise me that you won't be pressured into anything. You've always been so worried about what other people thought, always trying to prove yourself... But you don't have to prove anything to anyone. I know that you have a good heart, my love. _Use it..._ but don't let it use you, okay? Don't let anyone use that tenderness against you to make you feel like you owe them anything. _Be strong. _Be true to yourself, and don't compromise your own sense of worth. You deserve to live the life that you want to live, and if you won't let your father and I help, then you have to make it happen for yourself, do you understand?"

Hermione stared back at her mother with bright eyes as a play of emotions danced across each woman's face. Hermione wiped at a tear streak and steadied her voice before replying with a soft smile, "Wow, mum... did you just come up with all of that on the spot?"

Mrs Granger smiled back as another tear escaped down her own cheek, still stroking her daughter's hair as she answered, "Well... I admit that during the last couple of hours I've been working out what to say to you before I left..." Looking over Hermione's outfit, her mother continued, "I was going to include a speech about proper dress sense, but I'm sure you don't want to hear that."

"Sorry, mum..." Hermione apologized with a tense laugh, "If I'd known that you and dad were coming..."

"Never mind, dear. It's not about your father and I anyhow; we've seen it all before... I just wonder what these others must think, seeing you running around half-dressed... I'm sure we raised you better than that..."

"I thought you just said that it doesn't matter what anyone else thinks?" Hermione smirked.

"Oh, that's not what I meant and you know it," Mrs Granger lightly scolded. "It's only that... with all these _men _around here... I suppose that Mr Weasley is a decent enough fellow, I'm not too worried about him... and... Mr Lupin seems pretty sensible, though there's something about him that I just can't put my finger on... he seems nervous, somehow — as if he's taking on too much and is coming apart under the strain... I'd watch out around him, just to be on the safe side..."

"Mr Lupin is a good man, mum. You don't have to worry about him."

"I'm sure he is, but even good men have their weak moments..." Mrs Granger replied in an undertone. "And then there's that Professor Snape — he's a strange one, isn't he? I still don't understand what he's doing here, exactly."

Glancing down at the floor again, Hermione shrugged before murmuring, "You wouldn't understand it... it's all very political."

"Oh? Since when is your mother ignorant about politics?" Mrs Granger replied, cocking her head at her daughter's evasive response.

"Wizarding politics are very complex, mum. Even I don't understand all of it."

"Hmm. I think you might understand more than you let on," Mrs Granger replied knowingly. She paused for a moment as her daughter continued studying the floorboards, before asking quietly, "He isn't dangerous, is he? There was something that happened between him and Mr Moody when we arrived..."

"He isn't, mum," Hermione murmured, "...not to me. He's the one that found me, remember? He wants to keep me safe."

"You're blushing, dear," Mrs Granger hinted. "...Is that... all that he wants?"

"Mum..."

"Hermione, look at me, please."

Hermione inhaled slowly before glancing up at her mother, her lips tight with untold secrets. Mrs Granger studied her daughter carefully before a look of wary understanding crossed her features, and she darted her eyes toward the kitchen where the others were congregated before murmuring, "Oh, dear... I should have noticed it before... you're in love with him, aren't you?"

"Mum!"

"Nobody can hear us... just answer the question, Hermione."

"No!"

"No?" Mrs Granger inquired, "'No' as in you won't answer me, or 'no' as in I'm wrong about this?"

"Mum, please... you're embarrassing me..."

Mrs Granger took pity on her daughter for a moment, but was unable to drop the subject. "Then just answer me this: does he feel the same way about you?"

"Oh, God," Hermione murmured, burying her face in her hands, "Please stop. I just want to die right now..."

"Oh, don't be so melodramatic," Mrs Granger scoffed. "I don't understand why you're making such a big fuss about it, unless I'm right... in which case, you should be mature enough to answer such a simple question..."

"You're trying to manipulate me," Hermione grumbled. "And the question is anything but simple," she added very quietly.

Mrs Granger studied her daughter for a long moment before Hermione finally met her mother's probing gaze, and a communicative look passed between them. Relenting, Mrs Granger sighed before pushing some strands of hair off of Hermione's forehead in a sentimental sort of gesture, her features softening into reluctant acceptance.

"Just remember what I told you, dear," the older woman said softly. "My, my. You really have grown up, haven't you?" she said with some regret. "You're very beautiful, you know... Of course you were always beautiful to me, but you've certainly grown into your looks now... It's silly to think that men wouldn't notice such loveliness."

Hermione watched her mother's face as the woman studied her, taking in every detail with an unnerving kind of intensity.

"Just be careful, Hermione," Mrs Granger warned. "A pretty face can do funny things to a man... Believe it or not, I was quite a looker myself back in my day..."

"I know. I remember the pictures," Hermione replied. "And you're still very lovely, mum."

"Pish," her mother dismissed, "I'm not fishing for compliments. I'm trying to tell you that I know what it's like to be a pretty young thing surrounded by warm-blooded men of stature. I was one of the youngest students going for my MSc at the Dental Institute, you know. Let me tell you: I was like a fresh hunk of meat tossed into a tank full of sharks! Why, if it hadn't been for your father... well. Never mind all that," Mrs Granger exhaled, getting mildly flustered. "My point is that girls like you need to learn to look out for themselves and know the difference between hunger and true affection. Don't let yourself be swayed by flattery, Hermione."

"All right, mum. I get it..."

"Do you?" Mrs Granger challenged, "I hope so... because it's easier than you think to fall into the traps that older and wiser men set for girls like you. The worst part is, they don't even have to know that they're setting them... it just comes natural to them. They want what they want, whether or not they deserve it. A man can have his heart in the right place and still make a very foolish mistake."

"What are you two talking about so quietly?" Mr Granger asked, stepping up to the pair of women who were standing beside the fireplace.

"Business between a mother and daughter, dear," Mrs Granger promptly replied. "Never you mind."

Mr Granger made a face that elicited a small laugh from his daughter, and smiled down at her warmly.

"I'm glad. I hope you two have had enough time to catch up, because Mrs McGonagall says that Mr Moody will have to pick us up soon. Apparently these port key thingies are time-sensitive... Sounds like a lot of poppycock though if you ask me. I think they just want us out of here so that they can resume whatever important business these important people get up to around here."

"Come on, dad. It _is_ important... and it's _Professor_ McGonagall, by the way; you've been calling her Mrs, and I don't think she was ever married..."

"Have I?" Mr Granger replied, looking slightly shame-faced.

"It's all right, I just thought I should point it out," Hermione said in an undertone.

"Of course, of course... thank you, dear. Though I don't suppose I can make a greater arse of myself in front of these people at this point... You should have heard me a moment ago, trying to convince that Professor Snape to come take Crookshanks off our hands... I'm sure he took me for a lunatic."

"Crooks?" Hermione gasped, "He's with you?"

"Of course; who else would have him?" Mr Granger replied. "I told that Snape fellow that your mother and I are at our wits end with the damned beast, but he insisted that the animal was better off with us than in this house. He mentioned something about the full moon and magical creatures interacting violently with one another— then said something rather bawdy about animals in heat— but there aren't any other animals here that I can see, so I think he was full of it. Seems he isn't much of an animal person, if you ask me."

Hermione hid a small smirk as she considered which animal Severus might have been not-so-subtly referring to, and wondered whether the entire conversation was phrased to annoy Remus.

"It's all right, dad. Thanks for trying, but... Professor Snape was probably right. It's tense enough around here as it is."

Mr Granger gave his daughter one of the lop-sided smiles she remembered so well and placed his hands on her shoulders, looking her over before cupping her face in both hands.

"Just look at you. All grown up. Isn't she lovely, Joanne?"

"Quite lovely, dear," Mrs Granger replied. "I was just telling her so, myself."

"Pretty as a picture. It's no wonder..." He trailed off, a faraway look clouding his features.

"...No wonder what, dad?" Hermione asked softly. She watched her father's face as unvoiced thoughts swam through his head, before he smiled softly and patted her cheek.

"That man Snape is a pretty funny fellow, isn't he?" Mr Granger said quietly, causing Hermione and her mother to exchange a questioning glance.

"What do you mean, dad?" Hermione asked hesitantly.

"Oh, just that he's a hard one to figure out. Keeps his cards close to his chest... the strong, silent type, to be sure." When Hermione looked away and half-shrugged, her father quietly continued, "It could be that he's hiding his vulnerability, of course; that's usually the case with that sort of person. I just can't shake the feeling that he's hiding more than that, though... whether it's something that he ought to share with others—something that deserves some recognition—or whether it's something that's better kept away where nobody can see it, I'm not sure... I just get the feeling that he's not a man to underestimate, whatever the case."

As Hermione chewed on her bottom lip, her father sighed before drawing her in for a tight hug, pressing his face into her hair as she held on to him.

"Oh, Hermione. _I've missed you,_" Mr Granger said in a harsh whisper.

"_I've missed you too, dad_," Hermione whispered back.

"Look after yourself, okay?" He asked, feeling Hermione nod against his shoulder, "You're a smart girl. Smart as they come. Use that head of yours to stay out of trouble. I know there's nothing you can't figure out when you put your mind to it."

"Okay dad," Hermione promised, her voice harsh again with emotion.

Sounds from the back of the house interrupted the tender moment as the three family members became aware of low voices, and what sounded like McGonagall giving strict orders. A moment later, Severus appeared with a sour look on his face and nodded at the Grangers, his eyes lingering on Hermione for the briefest moment before he departed stiffly up the staircase.

"What do you suppose that was all about?" Mrs Granger asked quietly.

"I think Mr Moody is back," Hermione sighed. The three looked at each other, exchanging regretful faces as the imminence of their separation loomed over them.

"Mrs— I mean, Professor McGonagall says that we'll be able to contact you again when it's safe, but in the meantime we'll have to be patient, for your sake," Mr Granger explained sadly.

"I know, dad," Hermione said. "She knows what she's talking about. At least we got to see each other now."

"Oh, Hermione," Mrs Granger cried softly, reaching into a pocket to withdraw another tissue as an emotional fit took hold of her again.

"Don't, mum..." Hermione pleaded, fighting back tears of her own, "Let's not make a scene. I'll be okay, I promise..."

After the three said their goodbyes with as little drama as possible, Minerva escorted the Grangers out the back door where Moody was waiting with his magical eye fixed obsessively on the upper level of the house. As the small party approached him, Moody glanced at Minerva and grunted as she gave him a warning look, then pulled out an old leather glove from his coat pocket. After repeating some instructions, Moody watched as Mr and Mrs Granger each took hold of a finger of the glove, then unceremoniously pulled out his wand and barked the incantation. With a twist and a small flash the trio vanished, leaving Minerva alone in the sand.

...

"I'm going upstairs now, and I don't want to be interrupted for anything short of a real emergency, is that clear?" Minerva asked the four people standing around the kitchen, though her attention was mostly focused on Remus.

"Of course," Bill answered, while Remus gave a small and somewhat begrudging nod. Minerva fixed him with one of her no-nonsense stares before turning away, leaving the others to glance toward Remus in question.

"What are you all looking at?" Remus muttered when Minerva was out of earshot.

"Come on, Remus," Bill said quietly, "what was that all about? What did you do to get on McGonagall's bad side?"

"Who said I'm on her bad side?" Remus replied dismissively, slumping harder against the pantry wall.

"Her face says so," Fleur said lowly.

"It's nothing," Remus muttered. "I did what I had to do, all right? I've said my piece. Whether she sees it my way or not is her business. I can't change that woman's mind any more than one can change the orbit of the Earth. It's not even a question of right or wrong with her; she's going to do things the way she wants to do them. That's what we get for putting a Scotswoman in charge."

"Come now, Remus," Poppy chided, "you don't really believe that. We all have perfect faith in Minerva to do the right thing."

Remus made a face before turning away, his shoulders hunched and his arms tight across his chest as he paced to the other side of the kitchen as if the room was closing in on him.

"You might say otherwise if you had any idea what that woman's concept of 'the right thing' entails..." he muttered bitterly.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Bill asked.

"_She wants to put them in a room together!_" Remus suddenly hissed, spinning around to face the others with crazed eyes.

"_What?!_" Fleur whispered back.

"She thinks that will solve everything!" Remus said with disbelief, "—thinks that if they're going to sneak around, we might as well give them a room to do whatever they want to in private!"

Everyone looked at one another with mixed reactions, Bill looking almost on the verge of laughing with shock, Fleur looking somewhat disturbed, and Poppy looking undecided on whether she agreed with the idea or not. When nobody joined Remus in indignation, he exhaled in frustration.

"_Didn't you hear what I said?_" He complained in a harsh whisper, "_She really thinks that's the answer! _This whole charade with Hermione's parents was just one big scheme to get us all in agreement that Hermione's a full-bodied adult, and— in a very underhanded way, mind you— to basically get permission from her parents to allow her to shack up with that greasy bastard!"

"Hold on," Bill interjected, "maybe you're blowing this out of proportion... Maybe she just wants to clear the field to see if Hermione's mature enough to handle herself... or... I don't know... give her some space to make those kinds of decisions, you know?"

"Are you kidding?" Remus shot back, "You really think Hermione's capable of looking out for herself right now?"

"Are you so sure that she isn't?" Fleur argued.

"You're all out of your minds," Remus answered in disbelief. "This is _Hermione_ we're talking about—you know what happened to her; you know how she's changed... and you want to let her stroll right into bed with _Snape?_ Do you _really_ want that on your conscience?"

"It's clear that you don't want it on yours," Poppy said in a confidential tone. "Honestly, Remus. It's out of your hands now. We know that you're trying to do the right thing, but perhaps you're trying too hard. Let Minerva handle this now; she really is more than capable. You _know_ that she won't do anything without good reason; give her a little more credit. She deserves that much."

"I think you're all taking this far too lightly," Remus muttered.

"And we think you're taking it too far," Fleur said in an undertone that earned her a sour glance from the unhappy werewolf.

"She's right, Remus," Bill said gently, looking intently at his friend. "We're not trying to gang up on you, but enough is enough. I trust Minerva. You're going through a rough transformation; this isn't the time for you to focus on other people's lives. Take care of _yourself _first."

"Nice, Bill," Remus muttered resentfully, shaking his head. "Real nice. I didn't expect this from you of all people."

"Didn't expect the truth?" Bill countered. "Remus, I'm your friend. I care about you; we all do."

"Hermione's the one who needs you to care right now," Remus tried.

"We know that. And we do; we'll look after her. We won't let Snape hurt her, Remus. If he steps out of line, you know that we'll all be after his hide. But we have to give him a chance, if Minerva thinks he deserves one. You know that she wouldn't let him near Hermione if she had any real doubts about his character."

"Why _does_ she trust him, Remus?" Fleur asked. Everyone looked to Remus then for an answer as the werewolf tugged at his face, looking quite stricken.

"I showed her the notebook," he finally answered quietly. "Apparently it was proof enough for her, though if you ask me, she was too quick to accept it." After a pause, he added, "I don't know... there might have been something else."

"What do you mean, 'something else'?" Bill asked.

Sighing deeply, Remus replied, "I thought I saw... there was something in her face when I told her about everything; it was as if it was the explanation she was waiting for, like everything suddenly clicked for her. I guess it made more sense to her than it did to us. Maybe she knew something we didn't."

Everyone took a moment to consider this, wondering what mysteries Minerva might be privy to. It wasn't so difficult to believe, considering her close relationship with the Headmaster prior to his death.

"Well, like I said," Bill spoke, "Professor McGonagall is a trustworthy lady. If she thinks this is the way to go, then I'm behind her."

As the others nodded in agreement, Remus rubbed the back of his neck and shook his head in frustration. "Whatever you say. If I can't convince you all that this is a bad idea, I don't see the point in trying to explain it any further. I'm going out for some air."

As he left the room, everyone looked around again in mutual exasperation.

"Give him time," Bill said quietly, "he'll come around to our way of thinking again. I think this moon is affecting him worse than ever, this phase. I don't think I've ever seen him quite like this."

"Do you think that he might be right?" Fleur wondered aloud, "Maybe Professor McGonagall is being too hasty, trying to sort this out as quickly as possible so that we can move on to other matters... maybe she doesn't have Hermione's best interests at heart..."

"I think we'll just have to trust her judgement, regardless," Poppy replied, looking thoughtful. "Anyhow, who is to say exactly what Hermione's 'best interests' are? It's not as if there's any kind of science to such matters. I say we all give the girl a chance, and hope it works out for the best. What more can we really do? It's hardly any of our business anyways, even if we mean well. I think Minerva understands that better than any of us, and is stepping up to do what we probably ought to have done in the first place."

"What is that?" Fleur asked.

Shrugging, the mediwitch replied, "Letting nature run its course, I suppose..."

...

"Don't give me that look, Severus; I've gotten enough of that from Remus already," Minerva said with short patience.

"You... told _him_ this idea?" Severus replied haltingly, uncertain whether to be amused or sick at the thought of Lupin and McGonagall having that discussion.

"Remus is handling this side of the Order, so yes; we discussed it."

"...I suppose I don't even have to guess at his reaction..." Severus replied stiffly.

"Remus was quite vocal in his reservations, but that's neither here nor there. I'm not asking Remus for his opinion. From this point on, this is between you and Hermione. I'm only here to see to it that there's no more confusion about that. We all have far too much on our plates to be running around like headless chickens over some minor scandal, just because it turns out that you still have a heart, after all."

Severus looked decidedly uncomfortable as he processed Minerva's words, unable to form a response. After a pause, she took pity on him.

"I'm not asking for an explanation, Severus. I read that notebook. I know more than I need to already. Your actions themselves have demonstrated that you care deeply for the girl, and I'm not questioning your motives. I think I know you well enough to know that you wouldn't pursue her for ignoble reasons, and I'm not going to insult you with some speech about proper conduct. We're not at Hogwarts anymore; the whole world is being turned upside down and if one of our maligned teachers wants to take up with a former student, it's hardly going to make any difference to anyone now. I will remind you, however, that she is no ordinary girl... More than your love interest— more than my pet Gryffindor— Hermione is a key figure in this war. You heard the prophecy; you know what is at stake. I won't have that compromised."

"Whatever it is you're trying to say to me, please just come right out and say it," Severus requested tightly, his discomfort level rising exponentially.

Pursing her lips, Minerva gave Severus a cross look before answering, "I need to know right here and now whether you're still committed to winning this war. I need to know if you're going to allow your feelings for this girl jeopardize our cause." After short beat, she continued more gently, "I know why Albus had you do what you did; it must have taken great courage and commitment to carry that order through. ...Does such courage remain, Severus? Are you as strong now as you were then? ...Are you going to help us finish what we started?"

Severus looked into the sharp eyes of the woman across from him, wondering how it was that she'd managed to assume the same level of authority that Dumbledore himself had always used to great effect. She had always been a strong woman, undoubtedly, but something in her had changed since he'd seen her last; she now commanded respect with the same unflinching self-assurance that had made Dumbledore so damnably charismatic.

"I want Tom dead, but I won't sacrifice Hermione to achieve that," Severus spoke quietly after a long pause, his words heavy with caution. Minerva sized him up for a moment before replying.

"I see. Thank you for your honesty, Severus. I'm gratified to know where you stand."

After a moment, she continued, "Suppose, though— for the sake of argument— that Tom could not be killed without significant risk to all three of our Gryffindors... you must know that his survival would be just as much of a threat to her as sending her into battle."

Severus could not hide the troubled look in his eyes despite his attempt to keep his expression neutral, and deliberated for a tense duration before providing a response.

"Hermione will have to decide that for herself."

Minerva looked unconvinced, giving Severus a skeptical lift of her brow before asking, "You're telling me you won't attempt to influence her decision? Do you think I've forgotten that you were the Head of Slytherin house?"

"Regardless, the decision will ultimately be hers, and hers alone," Severus replied tightly.

"Indeed," Minerva replied, "I just hope that you realize what you're in for now. As Hermione's consort, you'll have responsibilities that you may not care for, but will have to learn to live with and manage all on your own. If we go down this road, there's no turning back. You'll answer to me, now — do you understand that?"

"I only answer to myself now, Minerva," Severus replied lowly.

"Not anymore you don't," she answered with a tone that rivaled his. "You forget what I'm offering you, here. I will give you a chance to be with the woman you love. I will give you your wand back; I will give you a clean slate. I'm offering you freedom in exchange for your loyalty."

"What kind of freedom is that?" Severus scoffed, "I know exactly what loyalty to the Order entails. There _is _no clean slate for men like me. Don't insult me by implying otherwise."

"You're being very difficult, Severus," Minerva responded shortly. "I know that it's your way, but it's not doing you any favors right now. Don't make this harder on yourself than it has to be. Take what I'm offering, and quit being so stubborn for the black-hearted, misanthropic sake of it!"

Making a tight face, Severus inhaled sharply and looked down at Minerva with pained eyes.

"Oh, Severus," she sighed, "Why must it be like this? Have we all mistreated you so badly that you're incapable of trusting anyone anymore? ...Don't you realize that I'm not your enemy?"

Severus stared down at Minerva in silence, studying her face for any hint of deception. At length, he replied in a slow, deep voice, "I appreciate your generosity, and I will accept your offer, but on one... condition..." As he drew out a pause, Minerva waited patiently for Severus to continue. "...Keep Lupin _off. my. __**back**__. _I don't want to have to suffer through any more of his unfounded harassment and tawdry insinuations."

Quirking an eyebrow, Minerva replied, "From what I understand his harassment wasn't _completely _unfounded, but I have no interest in revisiting that subject. I promise you that I'll do what I can, but you know that there's only so much that I can do from a distance. I will have a word with him before I leave, and I'll make sure that the others are clear about the change in circumstances. What else would you have me do? Shall I transfigure him a choke collar?"

Severus seemed to consider the suggestion, prompting a small smirk from the older witch. "You really are quite terrible. I'll do my best, but please try not to provoke him. And don't give me that innocent look; you know perfectly well what I mean... You would do well to keep any... _activities_ with Miss Granger confined to the bedroom, for one thing."

As Severus looked away in frustrated embarrassment, Minerva smirked again to herself as she straightened the folds of her robe. "Well, I can see that you're sufficiently chastised, so I'll let this matter drop and be on my way. I'll be in touch shortly; there is still much to discuss once I've made some arrangements. In the meantime I'll leave you to approach Hermione with my proposal. If there are any problems, you'll have to work them out yourselves. If you can't settle your differences with Remus, then please speak to Bill; he's a capable lad. And I'll be taking Poppy back with me; she would be much more useful elsewhere."

"Of course," Severus muttered.

As she made to leave the room, Minerva looked Severus over one last time with a pitying kind of expression, adding softly, "I am glad to have you back with us, Severus. I'm sure that Albus would be pleased to see you here. ...I'm sorry that we ever doubted you."

"You were meant to doubt me, Minerva," Severus answered quietly. "That was the plan. And I'm sure that Albus would rather see me back with Tom, as he intended. I have failed him in that regard."

"_No..._" Minerva replied earnestly, "I don't believe that. You've behaved heroically, Severus. Perhaps someday everyone will know it."

With one last look at Severus' uncomfortable expression, Minerva turned and left down the hall toward the stairwell. Severus watched her leave, uncertain how to interpret the strange emotion that was taking hold of him. When she'd first come upstairs to speak with him, he had been resigned to the notion that she was about to deliver a harsh sentence. He'd scarcely believed her when she'd eventually suggested that he and Hermione share a room together, of all things. _Was she just manipulating him, offering him enticing favors in exchange for services that would ultimately prove devastating? _He couldn't be sure, but something inside him was feeling an unexpected sort of amity toward the older woman. _Maybe, just maybe, he still had a friend in the world, after all..._

...

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><p><em><strong>AN:** __Let me just take a moment to dedicate this cha__pter to the lovely Megabat, who has created some excellent cover page artwork inspired by Waking the Witch! If you've ever wanted a visual aid to accompany this story, you're in luck, as these are just perfect! Let's hope this works... replace the dots, etc:_

i8 dot photobucket dot com/albums/a7/Fruitbat00/Story%20Covers/TakeTwo1a dot  
>jpg<p>

i8 dot photobucket dot com/albums/a7/Fruitbat00/Story%20Covers/TakeTwo1 dot  
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	52. Chapter 52

_**A/N: **__ I apologize for neglecting this story; lots of life changes happening on my end, and my newfound love of Star Trek TOS has thrown me headlong into a Spock/Kirk bender. So it is with a torn heart that I take a break from those two and bring you this next chapter, in response to some encouraging reviews and PMs. _

_The next couple chapters might seem fast-tracked a bit as I rush toward my pre-conceived final act, but even that is still in flux. If updates slow down again, it's because I want to do this the right way! I hope to finish this one over the summer (US), but shouldn't make any promises...Thanks for your continued interest!_

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><p><em>.<em>

Chapter 52

.

_He couldn't do it. _

_Did Minerva really expect him to just stroll right up to Hermione and casually suggest that she move her belongings into his bedroom? Or was he supposed to ask if he might move into hers? _Severus supposed that he had less to transfer, not that Hermione could have accumulated more than a few borrowed necessities in her short time residing in this place (and it _had _been a _short_ time, he reminded himself). _Wasn't it unseemly to be so presumptuous? _

Severus wondered whether this was some kind of test that Minerva had set for him; one that she undoubtedly expected him to fail, given her knowledge of his experience with such relationships, or, more precisely, the lack thereof. She must have known that such an arrangement was completely foreign to him, and that he'd muck it up somehow. Perhaps that was her plan all along— to underhandedly force him into realizing the utter impossibility of the situation. This way she wouldn't have to bother interfering; her hands would stay clean... She'd leave Severus to do this dirty work for her, under the guise of being 'helpful'— approving, even. _Perhaps she was laughing at him at this very moment..._

Taking a deep breath, Severus slumped down onto the bed again as he reconsidered his rising animosity. Perhaps he was being too ungenerous. Minerva had seemed genuine enough. An hour ago he had considered the surprising—but not altogether unlikely—possibility that the woman still considered him a friend, after all. Though he'd never placed much stock in the friendly advances of his colleagues, Severus realized that he needed a friend more than ever right now. If Minerva _was_ offering him a conciliatory hand, it wouldn't do to spat at it in paranoid distrust simply because he was afraid of sharing a bedroom with someone. He might as well accept the gesture and see how far it could get him... _it wasn't as if he actually had any other option..._

But the fact remained that he was terrified of the concept. At the time that Minerva had suggested it, Severus had been too distracted by his shock at the outlandish idea that he'd failed to register its full impact. Now that impact was hitting him hard, rendering him practically immobile with self-doubt. It wasn't as if he thought Hermione wouldn't be amenable to such an arrangement — _she'd been willing enough to come to him the night before, even falling into an easy sleep beside him... But would she be as willing if the situation were somewhat more permanent?_ Severus wondered if the appeal of sharing a bed with him would be diminished if Hermione were burdened with the expectation of _staying _in his bed, without one of her own to retreat to. Perhaps the thrill of an illicit assignation was more compelling to her than meeting him openly. _It really wasn't so far-fetched..._

_Hadn't 'Nina' been the one directing Hermione's sexual advances in the first place? Suppose that Hermione herself wasn't completely comfortable with the idea of a sexual relationship with her former professor? Was she acting out of a genuine desire to be with him, or was she being pressured by the fractured manifestation of her baser instincts? _Severus recalled the meeting at the dining table that afternoon, where he had readily made a vow with Hermione's father to protect her from harm. _Would he be violating the trust that the man had placed in him by taking his daughter to bed?_ ...He had only made such a vow because, moments earlier, Hermione had rejected her father's offer of help in favor of remaining here. _Had he imagined the way her eyes had flicked to him when she'd made her choice? Was it unreasonable to assume that she'd chosen __**him**__, rather than simply chosen not to return to the Muggle world?_

Severus' head was beginning to ache under the strain of so much uncertainty. Maybe Minerva hadn't anticipated just how complicated the situation was. After all, she had quite a lot on her mind already. This quick fix idea might have seemed like a viable solution to her at the time, but perhaps she'd reconsider the appropriateness of it in light of a more complete understanding of the complex dynamics at play. She couldn't have acquired more than a cursory knowledge of the situation as it stands, anyhow. _Would she be so disappointed to learn that the sleeping arrangements hadn't altered? _If the 'sneaking around' was the real issue, then surely Severus could handle it himself without resorting to such drastic a measure as intimate cohabitation. _He could manage to keep Nina restrained for the time being... couldn't he?_

...

The house seemed strangely quiet now that McGonagall had departed, taking Poppy with her. Lupin had disappeared sometime earlier — probably tending to some kind of Order business or another — and Bill and Fleur were now ensconced in their bedroom, obviously discussing something either Hermione or Severus weren't meant to hear since their low murmurs had abruptly been replaced by a faint buzzing sound some time ago, ostensibly by a not-so-subtle _Muffliato. _Meanwhile Hermione sat idly on the sofa again, her boredom warring with her nervousness over whatever it was that Minerva had said to Severus. Since he was still brooding upstairs, she imagined it couldn't have been anything nice.

'_Just go up there,' _Nina challenged her, _'talk to him... let's take his mind off whatever it is that's bothering him...'_

'_And what if __**we **__are part of what's bothering him?' _Hermione worried, _'What if McGonagall told him to stay away from us? ...From me?'_

'_Do you really believe that?'_

'_I don't know what to believe!'_

'_Then listen to me,' _Nina advised. _'That woman probably wouldn't have left Severus here with us if she wanted him to leave us alone, right?'_

'_She might have if there wasn't anywhere else to take him...'_

'_Well, she must trust him at least, because there's nothing standing in the way of our walking up there right now and ravishing him, right?'_

'_I'm not going to do that...'_

'_But there's nothing stopping us! Don't you get it? She wouldn't let it be that easy for us, or him, if she didn't want that happening. So forget about that old lady for a minute and let's concentrate on our next move.'_

'_She could have locked him up there,' _Hermione suggested. _'Maybe that's why he hasn't come down... maybe she spelled the door shut or something.'_

'_Well then, we should at least test that theory, right?' _Nina urged, _'Let's go up there and see... then at least we can start working on a plan.'_

'_And what if the door's not locked?' _Hermione fretted, _'What will we say to him?'_

'_That's the easy part,' _Nina insisted, _'don't worry about it. Just follow my lead.'_

'_Not if you're planning on seducing him,' _Hermione demurred, _'that would hardly be appropriate right now...'_

'_You really need to learn to relax,' _Nina soothed. _'You have to live in the moment, you know? Let things happen the way they're going to happen; just go with it!'_

'_Yeah, right,' _Hermione replied sarcastically, _'as if you aren't the one manipulating things so they happen that way...'_

'_I'm just a force of nature,' _Nina cooly countered, _'just reacting to processes already in play... I might help move them along, but don't think they weren't wanting to move that way anyhow.'_

'_So you think I would've just "naturally" ended up in bed with Professor Snape if you hadn't come along?' _Hermione replied doubtfully.

'_Probably not, but that doesn't mean you didn't want it to happen.'_

Blushing, Hermione softly retorted, _'I never would have even thought about it.'_

'_Thinking about it and wanting it are not the same thing,' _Nina suggested.

Still doubtful, Hermione asked, _'And what about him? I'm sure the idea would never have occurred to him, either...'_

'_Oh, he wanted it, too,' _Nina replied with certainty.

'_I really don't think he's the type to lust after his students,' _Hermione responded shakily, _'You don't know how he was...'_

'_It wasn't the student he was interested in by the time I came along,' _Nina explained. _'He saw the woman then, and it's the woman that he wanted. You being a former student only sweetened the package, coating it in all that tantalizing, illicit sugar that men find so irresistible.'_

'_I hardly consider myself a "woman," yet...'_ Hermione confided nervously, unsuccessfully trying to ignore the thrill of Nina's last statement. _'I still feel like a little girl sometimes, especially around him. This is all so new, so strange to me...'_

'_You weren't acting like a little girl the other night,' _Nina reminded her.

'_That was different,' _Hermione replied, _'__**I **__was different... I felt like someone else when I did those things.'_

'_And you liked it,' _Nina added. _'See? You're getting wet just thinking about it. If you want to ditch the little girl, you have to start taking some initiative. You can start by going upstairs now. The rest will come naturally, if you let it.'_

'_Maybe...'_

'_Definitely.'_

...

Severus was sitting hunched over at the foot of his bed when he heard the tentative knock at his bedroom door. He had been so lost in his reverie that he hadn't even heard the approach of gentle footsteps, or even any of the hesitation outside his room before the knock had issued. Startled, he stiffened as he sat up straighter and looked to the door nervously, trying to check the vulnerable expression that had taken hold of his features.

"Enter," he said warily, his voice only cracking slightly on the word.

There was a moment of hesitation before the door opened slowly, revealing the concerned, politely cautious face of Fleur Weasley. Severus released some of the breath he had been unwittingly holding at the sight of her, relief and disappointment each flashing briefly across his eyes before he assumed his usual facade of impassivity.

"Mrs Weasley," he acknowledged, "you wish to speak with me?"

"Good evening Professor," Fleur said politely, glancing across the room with a small frown of confusion. "Are you... alone?"

Severus raised an eyebrow at the question, wondering who Fleur expected to find with him. _Surely not Hermione?_

"You were expecting to find someone with me?" He coolly replied.

"Well, yes," she answered, her worry noticeably growing, "Hermione wasn't downstairs, so I thought..."

Severus abruptly rose from his position at the end of the bed, the sudden movement causing Fleur to instinctively take a step back, her muscles naturally assuming a slightly defensive stance at the sight of the imposing figure before her. Something had darkened in Severus' features in that single moment, and the low pulse of Dark Magic was detected by the sensitive half-Veela as it stirred to life in the blood of the wizard across from her.

"Have you checked outside the house?" Severus demanded lowly as all sorts of unsavory scenarios played across his alert mind.

Fleur shook her head fractionally as she cautiously regarded the Dark wizard, then turned quickly toward the stairs as both seemed to come to a silent decision. Fleur's delicate form moved swiftly down the staircase with Severus only a couple paces behind her, encountering her husband half way down.

"Hermione wasn't with him?" Bill asked, blinking as he took in the hurried scene and quickly turned to follow beside his wife.

"We're checking outside," Fleur replied carefully, though her nervousness was transparent enough. "Perhaps she went for another walk..."

"I'll try out back," Bill offered, glancing uncertainly at Severus as the older wizard made to follow Fleur out the front door. The Dark wizard nodded steadily at the younger man as he departed, whether in acknowledgement of Bill's statement or in reassurance, Bill wasn't sure, but it was enough to mollify him for the moment.

After a careful search of the perimeter, the three wizards met outside the house wearing matching expressions of concern. There was no sign of Hermione anywhere. Bill cast a quick life detector spell over the house which revealed that there was nobody inside.

"Where could she have gone?" Fleur asked in rising agitation, "Do you think someone could have taken her?"

"_Where is Lupin?_" Severus demanded, startling the others with the severity of his question.

"Remus wouldn't..." Bill started, automatically jumping to his friend's defense, though his retort was cut short as the possibility of the scenario sunk in. _He had been acting very strange and unpredictable..._

Bill and Fleur exchanged a nervous glance, their disbelief and ungenerous speculation clearly at odds with each other.

"Summon him," Severus instructed with firm resolve. "Summon him _immediately._"

Bill begrudgingly pulled out his wand and looked to Fleur again, who nodded minutely and folded her arms against an internal chill. _Would Remus really have kidnapped Hermione to keep her and Severus apart? What would it take to push him to such an extreme? ...How far gone was he?_

With a small sigh, Bill took a moment to focus before conjuring his Patronus. The three watched the shining form dart away, then stood by while they awaited a response. After a significant amount of time had passed, they realized that the reply they anticipated would not follow.

"Maybe he _can't_ reply right now..." Bill tried, though whether to convince himself or the others, no one was sure.

"We'll have to notify Minerva," Fleur quietly replied.

"I can't believe this," Bill murmured.

Severus narrowed his eyes as he looked toward the horizon again, which was darkening now that the sun had set. "I can," he replied ominously.

...


	53. Chapter 53

Chapter 53

.

"_How did this happen?_" Minerva demanded, looking more harried than anyone had seen her in some time.

"She couldn't have just _vanished..._ this was the safest place for her! Nobody could have known she was here!"

"Nobody except Lupin," Severus growled, looking as equally flustered as the older woman, with a barely-concealed edge of panic visible underneath his clear impatience.

"Enough of that Blarney, Snape!" Moody snapped, "Remus may be a bit off his nut lately, but he's no kidnapper!" Turning to Minerva, he continued, "He's a right good soldier and knows whose side he's on, unlike _that_ dodgy blaggard!"

Severus scowled at the finger Moody pointed in his direction before turning his dark gaze to Minerva in appeal.

"Where is he, then? Why hasn't he answered any of your summons? _He's taken her!_ He's put her life and everything you're fighting for at risk! We have to go after him _now,_ before it's too late!"

"_We, _is it? And just where do you think you're going, Snape?" Moody challenged in amusement.

"I can help," Severus said quietly to Minerva, trying to ignore Moody's provocation.

"Ha!" The other wizard barked, "Like hell you will—"

"Alastor, enough already," Minerva complained, "Your quarrel is not with Severus right now. Please focus your attention on the matter at hand and help me figure out what to do about this!"

"I've gone over the place with everything I've got," Moody explained, begrudgingly resuming his expected role in spite of his apprehension over the Dark wizard across from him. "There haven't been any intruders, or any trace of Dark magic other than the natural stink of that man there," he said meanly, gesturing toward Severus. "Maybe something—or _someone_, more likely—upset the lass," he suggested, staring pointedly at Snape. "Maybe she took off on her own, though I can't find a single trace of her to tell us which direction she might've gone off in..."

When Minerva turned a questioning eye on Severus, he bitterly replied, "I haven't spoken with her since you left."

After looking over Severus appraisingly, Minerva's posture indicated that she had come to a decision. "Fine. Since this is such a sensitive dilemma, we're going to have to keep it amongst ourselves, which means we'll need more help than we can afford to spare. I'm reinstating Severus as a _de facto_ Order member."

Ignoring the collective gasp of the three others in attendance, Minerva steadily regarded Severus as he raised his brows in surprise before straightening his posture and levelly returning her gaze in a show of confidence. "You'll need your wand back, of course," Minerva continued. "Mr Weasley, would you be good enough to fetch it for him so that I can begin the Oath?"

At the mention of the dreaded word Severus' expression faltered, and Minerva cocked her head defiantly. "You didn't expect me to let you back in without an Oath, did you?" She asked quietly.

Swallowing thickly, Severus darted a look around the room at the others before replying, "Suffice it to say I've developed an aversion to them."

As Minerva's skeptical look softened into one of understanding, Severus appeared even more uncomfortable. She answered seriously, "This is the only way, Severus."

As Bill hesitantly approached the two older wizards with Severus' wand in hand, Severus paused with slightly pursed lips and a look of both dread and resolve before nodding once at Minerva, then turning to glance down at the familiar length of ebony clutched in Bill's hand. His fingers itched to take it from him, and Bill felt a distinct swell of something unpleasant emanating from the cold wood.

"Shall I give it to him now?" Bill asked, anxious to be rid of the thing.

From the corner of his eye, Severus noted the defensive posture that Moody had not so subtly assumed.

At Minerva's nod of assent, Bill handed over the wand to the Dark wizard, who took it reverently from him as its power reunited with its master, coursing through Severus in deep swelling waves of Dark gratification, the echoes of which could be felt by everyone in the room. Severus' eyes fluttered at the sensation, and he took a deep, silent breath to ground himself as he reintegrated that which had been keenly missing from him. When he reopened his eyes, Minerva was momentarily taken aback by the fervency she saw there. As he raised a single brow in slight amusement, Minerva frowned before resuming her businesslike stance.

"Mr Moody, if you'll do the honors?" Minerva instructed, her tone not leaving room for negotiation.

Knowing he could not refuse, Mad-Eye approached the two wizards as they assumed the proper stance, interlocking their hands as he bound them together with his magic. As Head of the Order, Minerva spoke the requisite words.

"Will you, Severus Snape, promise to uphold the principles and dictates of The Order of the Phoenix, to the best of your ability, without ulterior motive or guile?"

At this last, Moody couldn't suppress the snort that escaped him. Without breaking eye contact with Minerva, Severus fought the sneer that resulted as he gravely replied, "I will_._"

"And will you, should it prove necessary, risk your life in order to protect that of Hermione Granger?"

Everyone looked to Minerva then in surprise; this of course wasn't standard to the Oath required of initiates, and was a rather presumptuous stipulation on Minerva's part. Her gaze remained steadily fixed on Severus, challenging him to accept the unorthodox proviso. There was a heavy pause before he replied, in a tone lower and more protracted than before, "_I will._"

Apparently satisfied, Minerva nodded before continuing, "Then, Severus Snape, I bind you to this oath and declare you a _de facto_ member of The Order of the Phoenix, a title to be dissolved only upon the fulfillment of your duties, as determined by the Order."

With a small flash the magical bonds surrounding the pair of joined hands dissipated, sealing the contract between the two parties. Severus shuddered internally as the Oath settled within him, its too-familiar presence an unwelcome reminder of past deeds. He recognized it as the oppressive shackle that it was, rather than the link of solidarity it was meant to represent. Though he would surely have protected Hermione without it, having no choice in the matter seemed to blacken his devotion.

"You better mean it, Snape," Moody muttered. "You know what'll happen to ye if you try to betray us."

"You can be certain that Severus knows, Mr Moody," Minerva answered in exasperation. "I hope you'll be satisfied that you can trust him, now. We _need _to work together on this, is that understood?"

Nodding in assent, Mad-Eye muttered something unintelligible as he slumped away, shuffling unhappily toward a window.

"Well then. Perhaps you should change into something more suitable," Minerva suggested, warily eyeing Severus' sleepwear. At this, Fleur darted helpfully toward the laundry room, returning with a dark bundle of freshly laundered robes. She smiled a bit sheepishly at Severus as she handed these over, her eyes betraying her uncertainty of him, though she seemed determined to be hospitable. He nodded in silent thanks as he took the garments before turning abruptly toward the stairs and making a somewhat miffed retreat toward his bedroom.

"Well, I suppose a 'welcome back' party is out of the question," Bill said quietly, attempting to diffuse the lingering tension with a bit of humor. Minerva gave him a withering glance before sighing as she turned to address the three Order members.

"I don't expect you all to get along famously, but I do expect a modicum of civility amongst you. I know that Severus can be difficult to work with," (Moody snorted at this), "but I expect you all to do your best to collaborate with him, nonetheless. He is a consummate Slytherin, there's no doubt about that. As such he can be very helpful to us. Find a way of using those qualities rather than disparaging them. You might be surprised by what he has to offer."

"He's clever all right," Moody scoffed, "I'm not denying that... if he wasn't, he wouldn't be such a liability."

"He's Oath-bound now, Alastor," Minerva reminded him. "How much of a liability can he be?"

"Time will tell us, Ma'm," Moody replied grimly. "Only time will tell us."

...

"How long does it take to change into those robes?" Bill remarked, looking impatiently toward the staircase.

"There are a lot of buttons to fasten," Fleur suggested, though she appeared equally concerned. Severus had gone upstairs nearly ten minutes ago, and the others were waiting to confer with him.

Moody stood at the base of the stairwell, his magical eye twitching erratically as he focused all his attention on the room upstairs.

"Something's not right," he murmured, "I'm not registering any Dark stink up there..."

Standing to attention, Minerva urgently replied, "Disapparation?"

"Negative," Moody barked back, "no sign of that or anything else, but I tell you he's not up there..."

"Go and check," Minerva ordered, and Moody didn't hesitate to comply. He was up the stairs in a flash, throwing open the door with a blast of magic that anyone would have considered unseemly had the situation not suddenly become so tense.

"He's gone all right," Moody shouted down to the concerned party below, "flew the coop!"

"Oh non!" Fleur gasped, turning wide eyes toward Minerva, "What does this mean?"

Thoroughly perturbed, Minerva shook her head as she contemplated the space above the stairwell. "It doesn't make any sense!" She near-whispered, seemingly to herself, "Why would he take off on his own? He knows Remus put a tracer on him..."

"Because he's a slippery bastard!" Moody shouted from the top of the stairs, "Probably expects us to chase after him! Didn't even bother to tell us his plan, just took off on his own like the solitary bum that he is! I told you! So much for teamwork!"

"But how?" Bill asked, "There's no way out up there, Remus and I sealed it up ourselves; those windows are escape-proof!"

"Not to a snake like him," Moody huffed.

"Maybe whatever happened to Hermione happened to Snape," Bill suggested.

"You think Remus kidnapped Snape, too?" Fleur asked in disbelief.

"I don't know, but how else could he have disappeared? Nobody else could have gotten in, and I really don't think Poppy Pomfrey has joined the Dark Side..."

"Are you sure he didn't slip by us unnoticed?" Minerva asked Moody.

"He's slippery, but not _that _slippery," Moody answered. "I had my magic eye trained up there the whole time. If he managed to get out somehow, it wasn't past me."

"We need to activate that trace," Minerva insisted.

"That may prove difficult," Moody grumbled. "...Lupin's the one who set it."

...

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: **__This was another short one to move things along, but a longer chapter is coming up..._


	54. Chapter 54

_**A/N: **I posted twice in a day so please be sure you read Ch. 53 before this one._

* * *

><p>.<p>

Chapter 54

.

Severus woke to the smell of damp — an old, dank stench overlaid with something that he recognized at once. _Fuck... Not here... _he thought as he groaned internally; ..._what in Merlin's name am I doing __**here**__?_

"Did you get him?" a roughened, painfully familiar voice ground out in a hushed tone.

"Yeah," came the low reply, in a voice that grated against every one of Severus' thoroughly taxed nerves. He had been hit with a particularly nasty stunner, which had rendered him momentarily unconscious. "I got him."

"_Incarcerous!_" The loathed voice incanted when Severus moved to locate his wand.

"Grab his wand!"

And then he saw her. As his bleary eyes tried to focus on the figure snatching his wand off the dirty floor, his attention was seized by the lifeless form of Hermione, slumped on the ground across from him. He blinked as his vision cleared, then the blackest of expressions transformed his features as he struggled to comprehend what had happened. His captors instinctively took a step back when they saw that formidable look, but boldly held their ground.

"_You blundering nitwits_..." Severus ground out, spittle flying from his mouth as his rage mounted, "_what have you done..._"

"Shut it, Snape!" The loathed voice spat, as the speaker struggled to reign in his own temper, "Or I'll _Crucio _you right where you lie!"

"You're going to pay for what you did!" Added the second voice.

"_Fools... meddling, incompetent, dunderheaded __**fools**_..." Snape muttered acerbically, straining against the magical ropes that bound him. "Release me at once!"

"Shut up, Snape! You're not going anywhere!"

"If you don't release me _this instant_, you're going to find yourselves in more trouble than you're prepared for," Severus shot back, his voice dripping with menace.

"Oh yeah? Just what do you think you're going to do all tied up like that, huh? We've got you now!"

"The trouble won't come from _me_, you idiots... it will come from the Death Eaters who undoubtedly started tracking my Mark the moment I arrived here in Islington, when all of London is under Dark surveillance!"

A pause, and then, "He's lying... it's just a dirty Slytherin trick. Don't listen to him."

"It's the truth, damn it, and if you don't get us out of here promptly, we're _all going to die_."

"You're full of shit, Snape!"

"Watch your tongue, _Potter_," Severus snapped, fixing his slightly matured but ever-irritating counterpart with another black look. "Listen to me very carefully: I don't know what you did to Hermione, but she's in no position to defend herself and if you don't get her out of here right now, she's going to die along with you two dunderheads, and she certainly doesn't deserve such an _idiotic_ fate after all that she's been through."

Harry regarded Snape with suspicion and a good deal of confusion as the Dark wizard bestowed him with the most earnest expression that Harry had ever seen from the man. Snape's eyes became shockingly deep for a moment, conveying a sadness that spoke of a lifetime of heartbreak and unimaginable suffering; of a heavy burden that Harry recognized all too well, and which perhaps rivaled his own.

"If only for Hermione's sake, get her out of here _fast; _leave me here if you must, but _get. her. __**out of here**_, _now_, before it's too late."

Harry and Ron exchanged a bemused glance as they processed the urgent instructions, their bravado faltering as they considered the safety of their friend. They had only just been reunited with her — quite unexpectedly when Dobby had shown up with the witch in tow, when they had been prepared to receive Snape instead — and had precipitously fired a barrage of incapacitating spells in anticipation of conflict with the Dark wizard. By the time they realized that a well-meaning Dobby had snagged a surprise guest instead of the prisoner who they had been expecting, Hermione was already unconscious, never having known what hit her. Simultaneously delighted to see their long-lost friend and mortified that they'd practically stunned her into a coma, the emotionally unstable pair had eventually ordered Dobby back to retrieve the intended prisoner, hoping that a confrontation with Snape would clear up the burning question of what Hermione Granger was doing alive and well at Shell Cottage, as well as present them with a suitable target on which to vent the ever-increasing emotional turmoil that the too-long-carried horcrux locket had inflicted upon them. Earlier, when they had sent Dobby to scout out potential hideouts now that their tolerance for the increasingly inhospitable Grimmauld Place was wearing thin, Ron's idea to check whether Shell Cottage was vacant proved more fortuitous than they had been expecting when Dobby reported back that several wizards and witches were in attendance, including the notorious Severus Snape. Since Hermione had been hiding in the loo at the time (and the house elf was, by nature, too polite to intrude on that particular room of the dwelling), her presence had not been reported among the inhabitants. It was only after Ron and Harry had settled on a plan to kidnap and interrogate Snape that they had sent Dobby back to retrieve the Dark wizard, at which time the obliging elf had excitedly happened upon the young witch as she was nervously making her way up the stairs toward Severus' room. Knowing that his good friend Harry Potter would be thrilled to know that Miss Hermione was alive and well, Dobby had eagerly transported her back to Grimmauld with him before she even knew what was happening. In his excitement, poor Dobby had forgotten about the ambush that was in store, and was unable to warn Harry Potter in time to prevent him and Mr Ron from brutally _Stupefying _their hapless friend.

Now Dobby stood by Miss Hermione, knees knocking together as he worried over her condition, feeling irreparably guilty over the mishap. His attention had been so focused on the incapacitated witch that he had not heard the low thrum of approaching danger that had startled Kreacher upstairs, prompting the usually antisocial house elf to appear before the small assembly in agitation.

"Trespassers, Master Potter! Trespassers approaching the noble house of Black!" The old elf croaked.

"They're here," Severus urged, "get her out of here, _now!_"

"What should we do, Harry?" Ron squeaked, apprehensively gripping the locket that hung around his neck. Severus caught sight of the Dark trinket, his brows furrowing as he sensed its Dark power.

"Dobby!" Harry called out, "Take Ron and Hermione to the safe place!"

"Yessir Harry Potter!" Dobby gasped, reaching down for Hermione's limp hand as Ron took his other one. As the three disappeared with a small _pop_, Harry turned to Kreacher.

"Follow them, and take me and Snape with you."

Severus only had a moment to look up in surprise before the elf snatched his hand from beneath the tangle of ropes, and before he could contemplate Harry's motives he found himself tumbling face first into wet sand.

For a moment he was relieved, thinking he was back at Shell Cottage... then he smelled a familiar combination of scents that conjured a host of associations that were even less desirable than those evoked at 12 Grimmauld Place.

Spitting out a mouthful of sand that tasted vaguely of squid piss, Severus groaned, "Damn it, Potter... what are we doing at Hogwarts?"

...

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: **__Bonus chapter! Another shortie I hadn't intended to post so soon but it works better like this _(;


	55. Chapter 55

Chapter 55

.

_"Damn it, Potter... what are we doing at Hogwarts?"_

Harry ignored his former professor as his bespectacled eyes darted keenly around the perimeter, his wand at the ready for whatever foe he was anticipating.

"I don't see any, Harry," Ron intoned as he stood protectively over Hermione's prone form. "Can you feel them?"

Harry continued to take in the scene for a moment before relaxing marginally as he looked toward the castle. "No, I can't, but that doesn't mean we're safe. We have to get into the castle straightaway."

"Are you _out of your imbecilic mind_?" Snape seethed from his woefully undignified position on the muddy beach, glaring in outraged disbelief at his former pupil from behind a mess of black hair that he couldn't manage to toss out of the way of his eyes. "The castle will be _swarming with Dementors_ - you wouldn't last five minutes in there!"

"Shows what you know, Snape!" Ron gloated, enjoying the sight of the Dark wizard lying helplessly in the wet sand a little too much. "If _he _doesn't even know about it, I guess it really is safe, huh Harry?"

"What are you on about, Weasley?" Severus complained, not at all liking the insolent expression on the ginger boy's face.

"We're not in there yet," Harry quietly reminded his friend, taking one more look around before turning to Dobby. "I need you to go to them; tell them we're back, and that we have two more with us, plus Kreacher. One is Professor Snape; tell them that he's our prisoner, and that we need to bring him with us."

Severus narrowed his eyes as he watched the skittish elf nod in acceptance of his instructions, then disappear from the shore in a _pop _of elf magic. _What kind of harebrained scheme was Potter up to, now?_

"Listen to me, Potter," Snape ground out, "whatever it is you hope to get away with this time, _it will. not. work. _Just because the school is closed doesn't mean that it's empty, and it certainly doesn't mean that the Dark Lord isn't monitoring it... the Dementors may well be _the least_ of your concerns right now—"

"Can't you shut him up, Harry?" Ron interrupted, his expression darkening as he pulled tellingly at the heavy locket that hung over his chest. "I'll _Silencio _him for you, if you want..."

If Harry noticed the uncharacteristically harsh edge to his friend's voice, he did not show it. Instead he turned a cold, considering eye toward Snape for a moment before shaking his head slowly as he returned his attention to the castle.

"You're wrong, Snape. We'll be safe here, at least for a little while."

Before Severus had a chance to question the young man's certainty, Dobby rematerialized in front of them looking slightly more nervous than he had been before he disappeared.

"Will they help us?" Harry asked quickly.

"They says we's be glad to serve Mr Harry Potter and his friends," the elf explained a little over-eagerly, "but not any Dark wizards! Dobby tells them what Harry Potter says, but they says that Harry Potter's prisoner cannot enter! Dobby is sorry, Harry Potter! Dobby tells them this is important to Harry Potter, but theys are too frightened!"

"Damn it!" Harry swore, unintentionally causing the little elf's ears to drop back against his head in contrition.

"Sorry, Dobby," Harry muttered as he pushed his hair back in frustration. "It's not your fault. But we need to get in, and I'm not leaving Snape behind."

"Why not?" Ron chimed in. "Listen, Harry — I want to have a go at the greasy git as much as you do, but if it means risking our lives... and Hermione's..."

"He's right," Severus reluctantly interjected, "you're wasting time. Take Hermione back to the cottage; they'll be able to properly care for her there. It's much safer for her than whatever you plan on doing here."

"You don't know anything about it, Snape," Harry snapped. "We can't go there; we can't trust anybody right now. And we have to stay together."

"Harry..." Ron murmured, wrapping his arms around his torso.

"Hold on," Harry replied as he held his hand to his scrunched up brow, rubbing at tension points as he struggled to come up with a solution, "just let me think for a moment..."

"But Harry..." Ron insisted, his voice taking on an odd pitch, "...I'm cold..."

"So am I!" Harry snapped back, impatiently dismissing his friend's ill-timed complaint.

"No, Harry," Ron persisted, his voice no more than a strained whisper now, "I'm _very cold_..."

Suddenly realizing the import of the complaint, Harry sprung to attention as he urgently scanned the darkening skies.

"Do you see any?" He whispered back, his voice adopting the same strained quality as his friend's.

"_Behind you!" _Snape shouted, futilely twisting against his bonds as the horrifying shape of a Dementor swooped down toward the small party.

"_Expecto Patronum!" _Harry readily incanted, his eyes taking on a sudden fierceness behind his spectacles as the spell's power surged out of his wand, expertly deflecting the eerie beast.

"Untie me!" Snape demanded as the younger wizards assumed a defensive stance, preparing for the swarm of Dementors that was sure to follow this first attempt.

"Not a chance!" Harry shot back.

"We have to get out of here, Harry!" Ron insisted.

"Dobby, can you get us in there?" Harry asked the wide-eyed elf who was huddled with Kreacher behind the unconscious witch.

"Yessir Harry Potter sir!" Dobby squeaked, "But theys will not lets the Dark one pass!"

"Let's go, Harry! Leave him!" Ron pleaded as a menacing shadow began forming on the horizon, rising up like a cold front from an icy hell. "They're coming! There's too many of them!"

Harry looked desperately to Snape, surprised to find the man once again fixing him with that strangely earnest gaze. "There's no alternative. Take her. _Go. NOW._"

Looking to Hermione, Harry's conflicted expression became suddenly resolute as he focused on the gentle face of his dear friend. With one last assessing glance at Snape, Harry addressed Dobby again. "Dobby, quick — tell them that we're in danger, and that Snape has to come with us. Tell them... tell them that I say he is my friend," he instructed with obvious reluctance. "Then get us out of here!"

As the elf quickly popped away again, Snape frowned in confusion at the odd exchange. The air had become unbearably icy now, and each person's breath was visible as a heavy frost began to spread over the beach, extending over the water in a rapidly forming layer of ice.

"What if it doesn't work?" Ron breathed.

"It will," Harry insisted, "it has to..."

"Harry..." Ron squeaked, all the blood draining from his already frost-bitten face as the swarm of Dementors began to descend upon the small group.

"_EXPECTO PATRONUM!" _Harry shouted at the top of his chilled lungs, straining as another burst of power shot forth at his command and rebounded in impressive waves of mounting strength as the resulting barrier pressed against the writhing hoard of Dark spectres. Even for all its might (which had certainly caught Severus off guard), Harry's spell clearly could not hold up for long against such an overwhelming force. The barrier strained under the opposition, visibly quivering as the Dementors slammed against it in increasing ferocity, howling terribly as they redoubled their efforts to break through.

"HARRY!" Ron screamed as a particularly eager Dementor managed to swoop in below the shield, making a beeline straight for the ginger wizard. "_Expecto patronum!" _Ron fumbled, his voice cracking as the locket around his neck seemed to deflect every attempt he made to summon the requisite powerful memory that would have enabled the spell to work. As he stared helplessly at his impotent wand, the Dementor began greedily sucking the life force out of the young wizard, much to his friend's dismay.

"Ron!" Harry shouted as his own spell faltered, nearly breaking his concentration entirely and ensuring the entire party's certain demise before Dobby rematerialized beside him with eyes bulging wider than ever. Without pause, Dobby reached for his friend Harry Potter's hand, then stretched behind him toward Snape.

"Kreacher, quick! Take Ron and Hermione!" Harry shouted with all the strength he could summon. It was clear, though, that the small elf could not reach the witch and wizard at the same time. Looking up toward the failing shield, Harry steeled himself as he prepared to make a risky move. Quickly dropping his spell, Harry only had a moment to take action before the hoard was upon them.

"_Accio Ron! Accio Hermione! Accio Kreacher!" _Harry shouted succinctly, casting each spell in rapid succession as the three bodies flew toward him and collided in an awkward tangle that was sure to leave bruises. A thoroughly startled Kreacher didn't need more than a good second to locate the hands of his charges before he high-tailed it out of the Dementors' path in a super-charged _pop _that might have been comical if the situation hadn't been so dire. Gripping Dobby's hand, Harry lunged himself toward Snape, who was doing his best to reach toward the pair as Dobby was flung beside him. Dobby scrambled nervously for the proffered appendage before finding purchase against the cold fingers. As the sucking force of the Dementors closed in on the trio, Dobby made a strange, small sound before pulling all three of them into tightly compressed space.

...

As soon as they landed on the cold stone floor, Harry knew that something was wrong. He'd traveled via elf magic enough times to know that the disorientation he was feeling upon re-materializing was more than that which the Dementors had inflicted. Blinking in confusion as his vision blurred, he realized that his spectacles had been knocked off and began groping about for them.

"Is everyone all right?" Harry asked, his voice cracking from the earlier strain. "Dobby?"

A muffled groan from somewhere to his right told him that Ron was at least alive and conscious.

"Dobby?" Harry tried again, his fingers desperately tracing over the damp stones. "Are you all right?"

Suddenly Harry felt something placed delicately against his hand, and feeling around for a moment he soon realized it was his missing spectacles. They were somewhat bent out of shape, but thankfully intact as he righted them crookedly on his face. As soon as they were more or less in place, his vision settled on the discomfiting sight of a troupe of house elves gathered silently around something on the floor. Kreacher moved away slowly to join them, his old shoulders hunched more than usual as he stood somberly at the edge of the small circle.

Harry's throat constricted instinctively as he looked to Ron— who was too busy cradling his own shock-addled body to have noticed what was going on behind him— and then to Snape, who had managed to roll himself against the wall so that he was more or less upright as he took in the scene before him with dispassionate eyes.

"I believe your little friend has exhausted himself, Potter." Snape explained. "You should have returned to the cottage as I instructed. House elves succumb to the Dementors' kiss more rapidly than larger beings. He undoubtedly used what little remained of his life energy to ensure your safety."

Harry's eyes burned as he gaped at Snape, angered to the point of tears at the man's cold assessment of the situation. His anger was outmatched, however, by the force of the pain that welled up within him at the idea that Dobby had sacrificed himself to save Harry's life. Looking desperately toward the somber grouping, Harry shakily rose from the ground to stare down at them from a greater vantage point. Some of the small faces looked up to him as he rose, turning sad eyes on the young wizard as they met his pain-filled stare before bowing their heads and stepping back to reveal the lifeless body of Harry's small friend.

"_No_..." Harry choked as he staggered forward, crouching on his knees before lifting Dobby's limp body into his shaking arms.

"Dobby..." Harry pleaded, his voice breaking around an escaped sob, "Please, Dobby, no... you can't die... please..."

A strange, quiet murmur broke out among the small congregation of elves that Harry distantly realized must be some kind of mourning cry, but which only confused him further as he held his friend's lifeless form against his chest.

"Dobby..." Harry sobbed, "please, Dobby..."

"He's gone, Potter," Snape offered quietly. "Leave him be. You're upsetting the others."

"No!" Harry cried. "He can't! This is my fault! I did this!"

As Harry's cries became increasingly desperate, his choked sobs turned to proper crying as he failed to contain the sharp swell of emotion.

"Harry?" Ron managed to ask, though his roughened voice could barely be heard above his friend's tight, desperate wails. "Gods, Harry — what is it?" Ron demanded, becoming increasingly concerned by the sounds his friend was making.

Just when Severus had resigned himself to the unpleasant fact that he was going to be trapped for an inestimable duration in the company of a severely distraught Harry Potter, the young man surprised him by suddenly pulling himself together and swallowing his tears as he assumed a chillingly bleak visage. After a long, silent moment, Harry rose to his feet with Dobby cradled in his arms and turned toward Snape.

"This man is my friend," Harry spoke to the small assembly, though his voice was clearly at odds with the sentiment.

"Any friend of Harry Potter is friend of Hogwarts," an old elf replied solemnly from the back of the crowd.

"Right." Harry acknowledged, fixing Snape with a cold glare. "He'll be hiding with us here for a bit. Use your magic to cloak him from the Dark ones."

Addressing Snape, Harry continued, "The lower levels have been closed off and secured with elf magic. Nothing can get in without their permission. Hermione will be safer here than she would be anywhere else. Your potion stores should still be intact; do what you can to help her."

There was a long beat as Severus paused to assess the unexpected instructions, regarding his counterpart warily. "I can hardly do much for her like this," he slowly replied.

Harry stared hard at him for another long beat before reaching into his waistband for the older wizard's wand, then tossing it with a clatter onto the ground in front of him. Severus glared at the impolite gesture as Harry drew his own wand to cancel the binding spell, carefully watching as Severus took a moment to stretch his taxed limbs before slowly picking up his wand and tucking it with deliberate care into a fold of his robes. Neither wizard's eyes dared to leave the other's as they sized each other up, until Harry was at last satisfied that Snape wasn't planning to hex him the moment he dropped his guard. With one last wary look at the Dark wizard, Harry steeled his expression again as he hugged Dobby to his chest and strode toward the hallway.

"Where are you going?" Ron asked quietly.

"Keep an eye on Snape," Harry replied, sounding quite tired as he continued on his way without breaking his stride. "Make sure Hermione's all right."

As Harry disappeared to who-knows-where, Ron and Severus exchanged an awkward glance before Severus straightened himself up with as much dignity as he could manage. Suddenly armed and standing at his full height, Snape cut a far more intimidating figure than he had when Ron had been taunting him earlier. The older wizard noticed his effect on the younger, but was too determined to see to a more pressing task than to waste time exacting his revenge. For the moment, at least.

"Oi! What do you think you're doing?!" Ron protested when Snape swooped Hermione up in his arms, regarding her with carefully shielded concern before pushing a sweep of hair off her face.

"I'm taking her to my laboratory for treatment," Severus muttered, his lip snarling at the younger man's objection as he kept his gaze fixed on Hermione while moving toward the doorway.

"Oi!" The younger man protested again, struggling to pull himself up to chase after the swiftly moving wizard. "That doesn't mean you have to touch her like that! Or _look_ at her like that either, you slimy git!"

There was a small murmuring of noises again as the dispirited house elves observed the little exchange, watching after the contentious wizards as they exited the communal storeroom and made their way down toward the deeper part of the dungeon.

...

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: **Sooo... this was supposed to be the first half of a longer chapter, but reviews and PMs have again prompted me to post it earlier than I was prepared to. _

_Question: would you guys prefer waiting for longer chapters (which of course take longer), or would you rather I post what I have when I have it, to avoid longer delays? I really am sorry that it's taking me so long, but I'm having difficulties moving at my former pace (not only is the story getting more complicated as I tie it all together, but there are also a heck of a lot more distractions that I'm dealing with now, too). I appreciate you hanging in there! _


	56. Chapter 56

_**A/N: **__Thanks a lot for all of your helpful feedback RE: chapter length — the general consensus seemed to be that while you guys appreciate longer chapters, more frequent chapters are preferable in order to stay involved with the story. This makes sense, and I'll definitely consider it for future updates. _

* * *

><p>.<p>

Chapter 56

.

As Severus stepped back into his laboratory for the first time since Albus' death, it struck him how odd it was that everything was just as he'd left it. Though it felt like a proper lifetime since he'd last had cause to utilize the well-maintained space, here it was, just as tidy and meticulously organized as it had ever been under his residence. _Had no one else been in here in all that time? _...He supposed it made sense that the facilities would fall into disuse in his absence, since there hadn't been enough time or opportunity to appoint another Potions Master before the school had been shut down entirely. He had half-expected to find the place vandalized at the very least, though, since he imagined that anything associated with him would have been targeted in vengeance after his apparent insurrection. Irrationally, he was almost disappointed to find that no such lashing out had taken place... _hadn't anyone cared enough to punish him—the dastardly traitor—by whatever means were available to them? Hadn't their anger toward him approached even a good fraction of that which he'd harbored against himself? _

He supposed that their grief might've taken other, less outwardly destructive forms... but that was hardly any consolation to him. To find his property so respectfully intact hurt him in a way that he wasn't too keen on investigating, but hurt all the same. It was almost as if it had never happened, which was, of course, woefully inaccurate. Albus had died by his hand, and all that he had to show for it at the moment was a heavy heart and the insufferable looks that he was getting from the Weasley watching his every move.

"You better not try to poison her," Ron warned as Severus speculatively held a dark vial in one long-fingered hand.

"That would negate the wisdom in having just saved her life," Severus muttered sarcastically.

"That's a laugh!" Ron scoffed, "You? What did you do to help her? I seem to remember you being too tied up to even help yourself, let alone Hermione! All you did was lie there and make a lot of noise."

Working his lips tightly in agitation, Severus resolved not to rise to the young wizard's tactless provocation — at least not beyond some requisite verbal sparring.

"You might recall the fact that—had your moronic friend not been determined to waste time toying with me—you might have all escaped the Dementors unharmed. Instead, Hermione was almost killed, Potter's elf _was _killed, and _you _may well have incurred some form of mental impairment along with your physical injuries."

"Huh?" Ron asked, unconsciously reaching a hand toward his head. "My head feels all right to me..."

"Not a surprise. Retardation is rarely understood by the afflicted."

Glaring at Snape, Ron continued, "You still haven't told me how you supposedly saved Hermione's life."

Severus paused to examine another vial before smoothly explaining, "If it hadn't been for my insistence, Potter might never have been prompted to take appropriate action. By convincing him that preserving her life was a greater priority than any kind of revenge scheme he had been counting on, I spared all of us from what I assure you would have been a most gruesome fate."

"Exactly. You saved _yourself. _If Hermione was saved, too, it was completely... coincidental," Ron asserted after taking a moment to find the word he was looking for.

"How conveniently you forget that I asked Potter to leave me to the Dementors in order to return Hermione to the cottage," Severus bitterly replied. "Not that I expect you to have been able to pay attention to anything other than your own cowardice during the attack."

"Cowardice?" Ron repeated incredulously, "_Cowardice?! _...how _dare_ you call me a coward, Snape!" Ron seethed, surprising Severus with his vehemence. "If you knew _half _ of what I've been putting up with these last few months! If you knew half of the complete and utter _shite_ you unleashed when you killed Dumbledore! What Harry and I have been doing—_alone_—to try to make even the_ smallest dent_ in this impossible war! You have no idea! NO IDEA!"

"Calm down, Weasley," Severus snapped, frowning as he turned to the irate young man in irritation, his acerbic reply momentarily postponed as his attention focused again on the way Ron was gripping the locket around his neck. Setting down the vial he'd been considering, Severus slowly approached the table where Ron was sitting beside Hermione, cradling her head in one hand as she lay helpless on the tabletop. His other hand clutched tightly at the locket, as if holding back something that fought to break loose.

Looking down suspiciously at him from his lofty height, Severus inquired, "Why do you wear that bauble around your neck, Weasley?"

As he reached toward the object in question, Ron turned sharply, shielding it from his touch. "_None of your business_," he replied in a tone thick with warning.

Undaunted, Severus persisted, "It's hardly of a style one would expect young wizards to sport these days... in fact, I'm sure it's an antique... one of apparent value, clearly beyond that of your average wizarding household... not the kind of trinket you'd expect to find among Mr or Mrs Weasley's heirlooms..."

"_Leave it alone, Snape_," Ron warned again in a curiously dark tone, clearly uncomfortable by the older man's scrutiny.

Severus could tell that something was off, but decided to pursue it at a more convenient time. There was no mistaking the Dark aura that the piece was radiating, and something disturbingly familiar about its signature gave Severus pause. Still, there was Hermione to think of...

"You've somehow gotten yourself mixed up in Dark magic, boy. Don't think you can hide it from me; I know it when I see it." Severus turned from Ron with a dramatic flare of his robes as he returned to his stores, feeling the heat of Ron's glare at his back. "We'll finish this discussion after I've seen to Hermione's recovery."

"Why do you keep calling her that?"

For a moment, the only indication Ron had that his words had registered was a slight pause as Severus reached for another vial. After resuming his ingredient gathering as if unimpressed by the question, Severus replied at length, "That _is_ her name."

"It's her _first _name, and it's pretty familiar of you to use it."

Without missing a beat this time, Severus smoothly replied, "If you haven't noticed, school is out. You aren't my students anymore, and I'm certainly not your professor now. If you wish me to maintain any of the old formalities for your own peace of mind, I'm afraid you won't find me very accommodating."

"Weasley."

"I beg your pardon?"

"You forgot to call me 'Weasley' at the end there, like you've been doing this whole time. And calling Harry 'Potter,' in that same old nasty voice of yours, just as usual..."

When Severus didn't respond, Ron persisted, "But you call Hermione by her first name. And you don't sound very nasty when you say it. In fact... when you say her name, you almost sound a bit—"

"I'll thank you to keep your inane observations to yourself, _Weasley_," Severus interrupted, managing to inject an effective dose of malice into the wizard's surname. "If you want your friend's recovery to be effective, you'll allow me to concentrate!"

Ron scowled as Severus returned to his work, but was able to shut up long enough to let the man gather the needed ingredients. By the time he had begun setting up his equipment, however, Ron felt compelled to open his mouth again.

"Harry should never have let you loose."

"If he hadn't, I highly doubt that _you _would be able to brew this elixir."

"You're a criminal, Snape; a murderer and a traitor. Harry was out of his mind to think you can be trusted for even one moment..."

Sighing at the tedious accusation, Severus replied, "While I don't disagree with your assessment of Potter's mental faculties, he did, in fact, make the right decision in releasing me."

"We'll see about that... I know what you're really up to, Snape. You can't fool me. I'm onto you."

Severus snorted disdainfully before muttering, "Is that so."

"Yeah. I know why you _really _want to fix Hermione... I know what you're really after..."

"I don't like your tone," Severus warned, becoming increasingly irritated by Ron's insinuations.

"I'll bet you don't; you don't like being called out as the snake that you are, do you? But it's perfectly clear to me what you want from her."

"I'm warning you, Weasley — I haven't the time or patience for your impudence!"

"Struck a nerve, did I?"

"I'll strike something else if you're not careful..."

"They say that you're a real letch, you know; that you _lusted after her for years_ before you finally worked out a scheme to kidnap her. They were right about you, weren't they?"

Ron stared daggers into Severus' black-clad back as the Dark wizard stood stiffly over a cauldron, knuckles white as his balled fists pressed hard against the countertop. Unable to prevent the rising tirade that the horcrux was furtively encouraging, Ron persisted against all his better judgement.

"Where was she all this time, Snape? Where have you been hiding her? Have you been keeping her as your own private whore? Is that why she's dressed like a tart?"

Ron noticed the sharp intake of breath from his opponent, but was undaunted. "Is it true what they say about you? That you've had a dirty little schoolgirl fetish this whole time? Dumbledore wouldn't hear of it, but I think he was just afraid to admit that he'd been wrong about you; afraid that he'd let a disgusting pervert into his school after all. But we found you out, didn't we... We know what you're really like. Dirty old bugger... how many times did you rape her, Snape?"

With a harsh growl, Severus finally broke out of his tense posture to stalk swiftly toward Ron, grasping him by the collar and shoving him against a wall before he ever had a chance to use the wand he'd been gripping in anticipation. Ron made a strangled sound as he lifted his wand in retaliation, only to have it violently plucked from his grasp and tossed aside with a clatter.

Staring hard into the young man's angry eyes, Severus allowed his penetrating gaze a moment or two to take full effect before speaking, quietly, but with a rough edge, "_I think that's enough gossip to be going on with, don't you?_"

When Ron just stared back hard at him, Severus continued, "What? No bitter comeback? No more ugly, slanderous replies? Come now, Weasley... I'm certain there's an abundance of obscenities in that filthy little mind of yours. Better get them all out now, before Hermione regains consciousness, because _I swear to you... _if she hears a single one of your disgusting accusations, I will _tear your tongue out_ with my bare hands,_ is. that. understood_?"

Ron twisted against the older man's steely grip, red-faced and scowling viciously. It was then that Severus noticed the Dark pulse emanating from the locket, notably more potent now than it had been before. Narrowing his eyes, Severus lowered Ron to the floor as he released his grip with a rough shove, swatting Ron's protective hand away as he moved to seize the locket.

"_Don't touch that!" _Ron hissed, squirming as Severus effectively restrained him while he scrutinized the piece, eventually working the chain over the young man's head to better examine it.

"Give that back!" Ron protested desperately, his violent energy visibly draining and replaced by a heavy exhaustion as the necklace was removed from his person.

"Please..." Ron croaked, suddenly sounding quite pathetic.

Severus watched the transformation curiously before returning his attention to the locket. After a few moments, he asked slowly, "Do you have _any idea _what this is?"

"Puh." Ron snorted, dropping to the ground in defeat as the horcrux's influence drained away from him, then lowering his head to his hand as he struggled to reorient himself. "Probably more than you do, I should think."

"I should think not," Severus contested. "This is _very_ Dark magic..."

"Ha. No kidding."

Frowning at his deflated opponent, Severus squinted at the locket again, turning it over several times as he felt each nuance of the magical signature respond to his probing.

"I believe I know who this belongs to," he murmured aloud. Looking to Ron again, he knew that his assessment was correct when he spotted the look of concern pass over Ron's tired features.

"I have no idea how you got your jammy hands on it, but don't think I won't find out _why_. ...In the meantime, I don't think either of us should be in close contact with it at the moment."

"Oi! Where are you taking it?" Ron protested, starting to chase after Severus as he made his way toward a chamber door. Severus had passed through and shut the door behind him before Ron could catch up, only to find it impenetrably locked. When Severus reemerged after Ron had worked himself up again beating against the dark wood, the locket was nowhere in sight.

"It's safely stowed away, Weasley. Calm down; the desperation that you're experiencing is undoubtedly the residual influence of the trinket. I suggest you lie down while I brew the elixir."

"That wasn't yours to hide, Snape! Harry trusted me! I'm supposed to look after it for him, it's important!"

"Well. You did a fine job," Severus taunted. "If you like, I'll tell him that you put up a suitable show of resistance."

"You're out of line, Snape!" Ron huffed, shaking his head with incredulity, "You don't even know what you're interfering with!"

"You can rest assured that I _will_ find out. Meanwhile, there's a cot in the adjoining storage space that you're free to make use of."

"I don't want a bloody cot," Ron ground out, "and I'm not leaving you alone with Hermione."

"Suit yourself," Severus murmured. "But you _will _remain silent, if you insist on remaining at all."

Ron opened his mouth to retort, but the look he received upon doing so quelled whatever response he'd been prepared to make. Begrudgingly, Ron shuffled over to a bench and slumped forward against the table, resting his head in his palm as he waited out the long potion-making process.

Severus was as precise as ever as he worked, his methodical, self-assured movements putting Ron inexplicably at ease even as he returned his attention to Hermione. For a long time he simply looked at her, unable to completely reconcile the way she looked now with the girl he had known. Somehow— without the insidious influence of the horcrux, perhaps— Hermione looked less 'tarted up' now than she'd appeared to him at first glance, and more like the lost little girl that she'd become in Ron's mind. He couldn't begin to imagine what she must have been through in all that time, but now that she was back, he was determined to keep her safe. He wondered if she'd thought about him anywhere near as often as he'd thought about her; if she'd missed him as much; needed him as much. He wondered if she hadn't forgotten how it had been between them before she'd been taken; if the unspoken feelings that he'd only barely been aware of at the time had been preserved at all, or whether they'd diminished entirely. He supposed it didn't matter... they'd both changed, just like everything else had. Whatever there still was between them—if anything—it could never be like it once was.

Ron looked up to notice Severus regarding him suspiciously through a veil of steam from the cauldron, then averting his gaze as he returned his attention to his work. _What was that all about? _...If Ron had been a more perceptive lad, he might have recognized Severus' expression as a kind of territorial jealously. As it was, he only got the sense that Severus was as untrusting of Ron around Hermione as Ron was of him. He supposed that it was only fair, though it still made him uncomfortable. _What right did Snape have to be untrusting of Ron where Hermione was concerned? She and Ron and Harry were friends, and Snape had no business doubting it. Well, aside from the part where they had stunned her into unconsciousness, but that was obviously an accident... _

After an inestimable duration— during which Ron had thrice fought the urge to nod off on the bench, then finally succumbed to his exhaustion at the last— Severus siphoned off a portion of his brew, and approached the table where Hermione lay. He was just contemplating the thought of casting a light slumbering spell over Ron— so as not to wake him while he spirited Hermione away to his old quarters, where he imagined she might recover more comfortably— when Harry finally reappeared.

"Is it done, then?" Harry immediately demanded to know.

Severus graced him with an unimpressed look before replying, "I have brewed an elixir that should prove effective, provided the damage you've inflicted upon your friend isn't worse than I've estimated." Satisfied by Harry's fleeting look of remorse, Severus continued, "I shall administer it now, though perhaps she'd be more comfortable if she was moved to someplace more private..."

"No," Harry objected, following Severus' line of thought as the older man glanced toward his chamber door, "do it here. Now."

Frowning, Severus replied, "Rather inconsiderate of you, Potter, given the fact that you put her in this state to begin with. The least you could do is allow her to come to her senses without the distraction of your presence. After all, it has been some time since—"

"I'm not leaving her alone with you, Snape," Harry interrupted, "forget it. Wake her up now."

"The effects won't be immediate," Severus snapped irritably, "and you'd be wise not to provoke me."

"You're under my protection here, Snape," Harry meanly reminded, "—and I can revoke it at any time. If you do anything to hurt me, expect the house elves to throw you to the Dementors in a heartbeat."

Severus stared down the brazen young wizard for a long moment, contemplating all the vicious retorts he wanted to unleash before deciding that diplomacy was, unfortunately, more prudent. He had questions about that locket and thus needed Harry to be as cooperative as possible, despite his lack of faith in such a scenario.

"Your threats are unnecessary," he replied slowly, "I am not interested in hurting you, Potter. You can trust that if I were, you'd be _begging for mercy_ _right now_ instead of making these insolent comments. Even so... as a wizard nearly twenty years your senior, I won't suffer such discourtesy. You _forget yourself_."

"I haven't forgotten _anything_, Snape," Harry responded meaningfully. Severus' raised eyebrow and resulting frown indicated that he knew exactly to what Harry was referring.

"Are you determined to dredge up that business now... or shall I see to Hermione's recovery?" He asked slowly.

With a glower and a short sigh, Severus knew that he had finally gained the upper hand as Harry crossed his arms and bit the inside of his cheek, indicating that Severus should continue. He was somewhat surprised to find Ron still asleep at the bench, and rudely shoved the boy into wakefulness so as to direct him out of the way. Ron blearily acknowledged the man's instructions, looking to Harry with offended pride as he shuffled away from the table.

"How do you know he isn't going to poison her?" Ron whispered to Harry, not at all quietly enough to escape Severus' notice.

Severus rolled his eyes before Harry answered, "I doubt that he would have gone through the trouble of trying to save her from the Dementors if he intended to poison her now, Ron."

"What do you mean?" Ron asked around a stifled yawn, "He never actually _did _anything... he couldn't do. You're not really going to believe all that talk of his, are you? He was desperate! What if he was just trying to help himself?"

"Mr Weasley," Severus huffed, turning around sharply with great effect, "if you're so concerned over the contents of this vial, perhaps you'd like to test it yourself? You are looking rather peaky. It would certainly do wonders for your complexion, though you'll have to excuse the taste of the newt skins. That particular ingredient is not known for its palatability."

"...I'll pass, thanks," Ron replied sullenly, looking a bit green at the suggestion. He could smell the fumes from where he stood beside Harry, and he had no desire to taste what he was smelling.

"Then kindly desist in your ridiculous speculation. Had you paid any significant attention to your coursework, you would have no trouble identifying this potion as innocuous. Your wariness of its effects only exposes the true depth of your _immense ignorance_ of potionry. Be silent, lest you embarrass yourself any further!"

Ron and Harry exchanged a look that Severus had been witness to many times before— Ron looking affronted, while Harry commiserated— before Severus turned around in satisfaction. Without further ado, he gently held Hermione's head in place while he lifted the vial to her slack mouth, deftly pouring the contents down her throat.

"How long will it take?" Harry asked.

"That depends on the level of damage to her system," Severus replied quietly as he lowered her head back, then gently parted her eyelids to observe her pupils. "It could take anywhere from an hour, to a full day... I suggest now that we _at least_ move her off this table. Weasley, fetch the cot from—"

Severus' instructions were cut short by the unexpected sound of a faint cough, which caught all three wizards by surprise as they turned their attention onto the waking witch.

"Hermione!" Harry shouted, causing Severus to quickly motion for him to shut up.

Supporting her in his arm, Severus furrowed his brow as he helped Hermione to a sitting position as she proceeded to cough weakly. "She's regaining consciousness," he said with disbelief, surprised by the potion's swift result. Realizing that she needed further stimulation to pull out of it effectively, Severus shocked Ron and Harry by lightly slapping Hermione across the face.

"Whoa!" Ron protested, gripping Severus' arm to prevent a repeat of the incident. "What do you think you're doing?!"

"I'm _reviving her_, you half-wit!" Severus snapped, roughly shaking out of the younger man's grip.

When Severus moved to slap her again, Harry reached out to prevent Ron's instinctive interference. "Let him," Harry said quietly.

Ron frowned at the command, but did not make another move to interfere. After a couple of minutes, Hermione was blinking into alertness.

"Hermione?" Ron started hopefully, eagerly anticipating a happy reunion with his friend.

As Hermione's eyes fully opened, she seemed a little disoriented by her surroundings at first before she focused on Severus' concerned face.

"Severus?" she said weakly, surprising her old friends by her familiar use of the Dark man's name.

"Hermione..." Ron tried again, "you're back..."

Reluctantly turning her attention away from Severus, Hermione blinked as she took in the hopeful expressions of Ron and Harry. After regarding them in confusion for a moment, she dropped her gaze and shook her head as if to rattle something back into place.

"Hermione, are you all right?" Severus asked in concern, his voice low and deep, before he carefully moved her toward him, inviting her to lean against him in support. Ron and Harry frowned at the gesture, but made no move to interfere.

"Severus..." Hermione said again, gratefully resting her head against his chest for a moment. Severus exulted in the warmth for its short duration before she sat up again suddenly, looking around the tabletop as if trying to figure something out. Severus recognized the signs of agitation — it seemed as if something were bothering her.

"You're safe," he assured her, "you've just had a shock, but I gave you something to recover."

"I..." Hermione started to say, trailing off as she tilted her head, clearly trying to organize her thoughts.

"What is it? Is something the matter?" Severus asked quietly, "What do you need?"

"Severus," she said again with a small sigh, this time saying the name with such sweet intimacy as to be unmistakable even to the sometime-dolts across from her. Both gaped in stunned confusion as she lifted a weak hand to the Dark wizard's face, prompting him to return her gaze and recognize the import of whatever it was she meant to say to him.

"Severus... I... I remember... it's all there..."

As the odd couple exchanged a tremendous look of recognition, Hermione offered a small, fragile smile, delicately pressing her fingers against Severus' face.

"I remember everything."

...


	57. Chapter 57

_A/N: Yes, I know, this one's WAY overdue. I've got plenty of excuses but won't waste your time listing them here. In short, I feel really lame about not finishing this story, and I'm still determined to make that happen. Here's the thing, though: my notes are (to say the least) difficult to decipher after such a long hiatus, and I'm scrambling to tie up loose ends without compromising the creative process that makes this story work — so, if you notice something I might have overlooked (especially pertaining to story continuity), please don't hesitate to point it out to me, as I could use the help! That said..._

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Chapter 57

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"_I remember everything."_

Severus Tobias Snape had never been a 'happy' man. Nor had he been a particularly happy child, to put a dark thing lightly. Despite the burdensome emotional heritage of a less–than–fortunate upbringing, it might very well be said that Severus Tobias Snape's particular brand of unhappiness developed even prior to these events. Indeed, one might rightfully presume that he was born scowling; that he perfected his trademark scowl in embryo; that he frightened his poor mother with it from the moment she first beheld her strange and quiet infant; that he scowled all through his formative years and beyond. He was and always had been a dark and brooding sort of fellow. Formidable, even, if most children of his acquaintance (and even most adults, for that matter) were to be believed. But not happy. Never that.

Even so, what happened next was so completely unexpected—so utterly abnormal—that even a couple of war-jaded wizards like Ronald Weasley and Harry Potter felt that they had finally 'seen it all.' Severus Tobias Snape actually _smiled_.

To be fair, it was a somewhat awkward sort of smile: not exactly the kind that radiates joy and sunshine... but more of a fumbling, slightly pained effort of inexperienced facial muscles to contort themselves into something resembling genuine happiness — but there was, indeed, happiness behind it, and there was nothing disingenuous about it. Severus' eyes contained more warmth in them than either of the two younger wizards had thought possible, and the effect was contagious. Despite themselves, Ron and Harry were momentarily caught up in the feeling, and broke out into tentative smiles of their own, even if theirs were tinged with confusion. Hermione was all right, and Snape was happy. It was enough to thaw even a horcrux-chilled heart.

Precious as it was, the moment couldn't last.

Hermione was so caught up in the enchantment of Severus' smile that she'd nearly forgotten that the two of them weren't alone in the room. Though completely unable to shift her eyes away from the depth of his warm gaze, an insistent thought at the back of her mind was trying to assert itself over the positively distracting surge of affection.

"Severus?" Hermione tried, her voice distant and dream-like to her own ears.

"Hmm?" Came the distracted reply from the man holding her.

"Am I dreaming, or are we at Hogwarts?"

Severus blinked as he seemed to come back to himself a little, regaining some semblance of consciousness though his eyes remained glued to Hermione's with a gentle sort of intensity. She had asked him a question. Something about Hogwarts.

"Oh, yes." He answered gently. There. She was smiling at him. His answer must have been satisfactory. ...No, wait... there was laughter in her eyes.

"Yes?" She teased, "Is that 'yes, I'm dreaming,' or 'yes, we're actually in your potions lab and Ron and Harry just happen to be here as well'?"

Ron and Harry? Well. That woke him up.

Blinking again as if coming out of hypnosis, Severus tentatively drew his eyes away from hers and glanced over at those of the gobsmacked ginger standing across from him. In an instant, his look of wonderment drained away into a flat-affect stare. Weasley. His eyes narrowed as he cooly glanced over his shoulder toward the other elephant in the room. Potter.

Harry thinned his lips as he met Severus' gaze, a look of small consternation crossing his features though there was no malice in it. How was it that he always ended up in such awkward positions with Snape? This one surely took the prize.

"Hello, Hermione," Harry started, his voice coming out all wrong. He cleared his throat and tried again. "You don't know how good it is to see you... I thought... we thought..."

"That you might be dead, or worse," Ron helped, sounding just as exhausted and apologetic as his friend, if not more so.

"She might have been, if it hadn't been for you two," Severus chided, though his words were lacking in harshness. Hermione looked at him curiously, wondering what he meant. With a small sigh, he seemed to let whatever it was go, opting instead to return his attention to the young woman in his arms. Was she really there? All of her? Safely returned to him, just like that?

"What is it?" Hermione asked, sensing his concern.

Severus hesitated before tentatively phrasing his question. "You said that you... remember... _everything_?"

Hermione's eyes searched his, wondering what exactly he was getting at. "Yes," she replied uncertainly, "I think so..."

When the concern in Severus' expression didn't abate, she continued, "Severus... it's me. I'm here, now," covertly moving her hand over his (though neither Ron nor Harry missed the gesture), "_all of me_," she assured him.

Severus looked simultaneously relieved and further concerned. "Then you're all right?"

"Yes, I think so," she answered with a small smile. It was enough. The warmth she had witnessed earlier was overtaking Severus' gaze again, and it threatened to derail her budding resolve. As much as she longed to linger in that gaze, there was much to be done. And, Ron and Harry to consider.

"Really, Severus," Hermione assured, "I'm all right. But..." as the older wizard raised his brow in question, Hermione suppressed a smirk at the familiar expression. Gods, but he was a handsome man. Severus' sharp eyes noticed the momentary dilation of her pupils, and his own darkened considerably. "Um..." she continued, suddenly feeling several degrees warmer despite the chill of the dungeon air, "...if we're not in any immediate danger, I think perhaps I should find some new clothes?"

Severus' eyes flicked down to her thoroughly soiled slip dress, and was alarmed that he hadn't noticed her state of dishabille sooner. Feeling quite negligent, he immediately moved to remove his outer robe and wrap her in it.

"Oh, thank you," she said with some surprise, though she hadn't necessarily meant for him to do _that._ As she made a move to rise to her feet, Severus offered to steady her with quite an air of gallantry. It made her feel all the more ridiculous when the heavy black robe pooled around her feet in a conspicuous excess of fabric. "This isn't quite what I had in mind, though," she mumbled.

Harry was next to rise to the initiative. "Kreacher?" he summoned, turning towards the elf that immediately appeared at his service. "Could you look for some clothes for Hermione? Some that will fit her?"

Severus frowned at the implication that his gesture was inadequate, however unintentional. Hermione smiled awkwardly at the elf, conveying gratefulness as he nodded and popped off.

With his hands on his hips, Harry was suddenly all business. "Right." He looked to each person, making sure he had their attention. Severus recognized the authority that the young wizard was attempting to project, and looked on warily. Harry was regarding him carefully, as if sizing him up. After a protracted moment, he seemed to settle on a decision. Looking from Severus to Hermione, and back again, Harry asserted, "We've got some catching up to do."

...

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><p>It wasn't long after Ron had begun telling the story of how they'd managed to secure the castle—with more than a few creative embellishments, Harry noted—that Kreacher reappeared with a bundle in tow. He was followed by two smaller elves, one proudly carrying a fully loaded tea tray, the other, a platter of sandwiches. Ron stopped mid-sentence at the sight, quickly rising to assist the sandwich-toting elf with an untoward amount of eagerness. Hermione hid a small smile at the familiar scenario. It was almost like being home again, whatever that meant anymore. As Harry lifted the tea tray onto the potions table that they had gathered around — Ron and Harry seated on one side, while Severus flanked Hermione on the opposite bench — he thanked the small elf by name, which caught Severus' attention.<p>

"Exactly how long have you been here, Potter?" He asked.

Harry looked up, apparently troubled by the question. "Um, I'm not sure, exactly..." he answered, "We sort of lost track somewhere along the way, before we came here."

"Yeah," Ron interjected around a mouthful of cheese and pickle, "We even missed Harry's birthday."

Hermione turned her attention to Harry, who looked somewhat sheepish at the comment. Beside her, Severus tried not to roll his eyes. "Oh..." she replied, trying to summon an appropriate degree of sympathy, "that's... terrible. I'm sorry."

"Don't mention it," Harry mumbled, shooting Ron a censorious look. Ron scrunched his brow and shrugged, wondering what Harry found so inappropriate. To a Weasley, a missed birthday was no small matter.

"Yeah, well, you get the picture," Ron muttered in defense, taking another large bite of his sandwich.

"At least you're not starving to death," Severus intoned sarcastically, earning a small, unintentional snort of amusement from Hermione.

"Don't think we weren't!" Ron insisted with undue vehemence, "You have no idea! Tell them, Harry!"

"We were pretty hungry there for a while," Harry agreed solemnly, "before we made it here."

"You do look pretty thin," Hermione noted, looking over each young man in turn, "and quite exhausted, actually... haven't you been sleeping at all now that you're here?"

"Are you kidding?" Ron retorted, "Not bloody likely. I haven't slept a whole night through in ages."

"But aren't we safe here?" Hermione asked.

"Nowhere is safe anymore," Severus answered quietly.

"But relatively speaking?" Hermione insisted.

"It's not just that," Harry replied, "I think that the locket has a large part to do with it."

A silence fell as Hermione looked to each person for an explanation. "Severus?" she finally asked, noticing his distracted expression. "What locket?"

"Oh, right..." Ron said gloomily, "We haven't told you about the horcuxes yet..."

"What's a horcrux?" Hermione asked persistently, her attention clearly piqued.

"Perhaps before we start in on all of that, you should take some time to recuperate," Severus suggested delicately, "I'm sure the house elves would be grateful for the opportunity to run you a bath; you can change into some fresh clothes," he offered, handing her the bundle that Kreacher had left for her.

"Sod that," Hermione scoffed, looking Harry square in the eye, "I'm not going anywhere until you elaborate."

Harry seemed to deflate a little as he met Hermione's intent stare, sighing wearily. "It really is a long story," Harry insisted. "And not a pleasant one, at that."

Hermione scrunched her brow, realizing that Harry was holding back on this particular tale more for his own sake than hers. Whatever it was they weren't telling her, it was clearly weighing heavily on them.

"Fine," Hermione conceded, "I won't make you go into it right now." Everyone seemed to relax a bit before Hermione turned to Severus and continued, "Instead, I _will_ have that bath, and _you'll_ tell me all about it," she said to him with resolution.

Rising from the bench, she smiled with satisfaction at her plan, and took up her bundle of robes. "Come along, then," she urged with a gesture of her head, "I suppose it's all right to use your old rooms?"

Severus blinked at her in astonishment, clearly struggling to process what she was saying. Hermione was back, all right: bossy and eager to learn as ever — but apparently, Nina hadn't disappeared, either... Was she really suggesting what it sounded like? Severus looked to Ron and Harry, who were equally bemused.

"Enjoy your sandwiches, boys," Hermione said warmly as she made her way toward the Potion Master's private stairwell. There was definitely something of Nina back in her voice as she looked over her shoulder and fixed the older wizard with a familiar gaze, asking, "Coming, Severus?"

...

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><p><em>AN: This was just a warm-up — more on the way! _;)


	58. Chapter 58

_A/N: If you've read up to this point you shouldn't need further warning, but just to reiterate — MATURE READERS ONLY, PLEASE._

_ALSO: If you would like to read a brief-ish synopsis of the whole story thus far (to remind you of everything that has happened), you can find one in the reviews (I posted it as a review for chapter 57). Hope that helps — feel free to PM me if you can't find it and I'll easily copy/paste it in reply._

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><p>.<p>

Chapter 58

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"_Coming, Severus?"_

And just like that—with a deliberate softness about the eyes that was too innocent-looking to be trusted and a little smirk that was anything but—Hermione descended the darkened stairwell as if she'd walked those steps a hundred times before. She hadn't, of course; in fact, it was more than likely that nobody but Severus had walked that particular set of stairs since 1981 — back when Horace Slughorn had made his final ascent out of the dreary place, pleased as pumpkin juice to see the back of it.

Severus wondered for a moment whether his false door was still in place, or if all of his enchantments had been dismantled after his departure. Well, not all; there were some precautions that he'd taken that only Dumbledore himself could've rendered inert, and since he was... Well. Anyhow, Severus was pretty sure that Hermione wasn't going to get very far without his help. With raised brows and an expression implying that he was more or less helpless to do otherwise, Severus took a moment to regard the two younger wizards who were looking to him for an explanation he had no intention of giving, then seemed to bolster himself up before moving to follow the wayward young witch.

"Hold on," Harry called to him in disbelief, "what are you doing?"

Severus graced the younger wizard with a haughty expression that meant to suggest that the answer was obvious, but apparently it wasn't. When Harry's insistent look of open-mouthed incomprehension didn't falter, Severus huffed before curtly elaborating, "She can't very well find her way through the dark without a wand."

Clearly not wishing to comment further on his dubiously noble intentions, the former Potions Master assumed a familiar air of authority as he swept toward the stairwell, only to find the way barred as a particularly disgruntled ginger beat him to it.

"Step away, Weasley," Severus groused, as if equally frustrated and unsurprised by the effort.

"Not a chance," Ron retorted, a clear challenge in his posture, "I don't know what's going on here, but I don't like it. Not a bit."

Before Severus could respond, Harry was approaching his left.

"Nor do I," he was quick to chime in.

With deliberate care, Severus crossed his arms in front of him as he looked toward the ceiling in an appeal for some kind of divinely imparted patience, rhythmically tapping his long fingers against his upper arm.

"Well?" Ron challenged, "What do you have to say for yourself?"

"About what?" Severus snapped, though he knew perfectly well.

"About you and Hermione!" Ron demanded in a harsh whisper.

"She's our friend, Snape," Harry added in a low voice. "We're not just going to stand by while you... you..."

"What exactly are you accusing me of, Potter?" Snape retorted sarcastically. "If she wants to use my former facilities, I have no objections. At the moment I imagine she's lost in the dark without any idea how to open the door; if you'll call off this red-headed bulldog of yours, I'll help her get settled."

"Uh huh," Ron scoffed darkly, "I bet you will."

"We saw that look she was giving you, Snape," Harry confided, "we know something's going on."

"You know _nothing. _I'm certain that prolonged exposure to that horcrux has scrambled your feeble minds enough to incite all sorts of vulgar delusions, especially given your limitless propensity for misconjecture..."

"Hold on—"

"—but that's no reason to stand around pretending as if either one of you can actually keep me out of my own dungeon. _I suggest you step aside_, Weasley, before I show you just what being Head of Slytherin House entails down in _this_ part of the castle..."

Severus' voice had dropped several decibels into a languid malevolence that neither Gryffindor had heard in quite some time, but which still held as much gravitas as ever. With a deep scowl of displeasure, Ron yielded to the instinctive urge to obey his former Professor's warning, and stepped aside just enough for Severus to push past him in irritation.

"Ron?" Harry asked in surprise, expecting more of a fight from his overprotective friend.

"Leave it, Harry." Ron muttered.

"But Hermione—"

"She's a grown witch," Ron shrugged, though his tense posture belied his words, "you saw her. She can look after herself."

"We don't know that," Harry argued, "I don't think she's quite herself..."

"Yeah, well, neither are we. Not anymore." Ron sighed. "Anyhow, if she wants to lead Snape on like that, who are we to stop her? I mean, it's not like she's _actually_ going to do anything... not with that old git."

"_Lead him on_? Does that really sound like Hermione to you, Ron?"

"I dunno," Ron answered bitterly, "...like I said, we're all different now..."

Harry regarded his friend skeptically for a moment before asking, "Don't you still... you know..."

Ron averted his eyes and shrugged, asking, "...what?"

"Come on, Ron. I know how you used to feel about her."

"What's that got to do with anything?"

Exasperated, Harry persisted, "I'm just asking if there's still any chance..."

"What?" Ron countered, becoming defensive, "Do you think I'm jealous of _Snape_?"

"That's not what I—"

"Well I'm not!" Ron insisted.

"Fine!" Harry capitulated, "Forget I said anything."

"I already have!" Ron announced, walking away at a brisk pace.

"Where are you going?" Harry called after him, but he never received an answer. Ron stormed out of the room as if he had some place better to be, which—if that place was anywhere out of the dungeon—Harry supposed it was. With a deep sigh, Harry looked toward the dark recess of the stairwell before turning and shuffling out of the room, determined to find something to distract him from whatever may or may not be going on down in the Potion Master's private quarters.

...

Severus was a little surprised to discover that the castle still recognized him as a Head of House. Ancient sconces came to life on the wall beside him, lighting the way for him as he approached, then dimming to darkness as he passed. When he came upon the entrance to an oft-used alternate route leading to a faculty passageway, he paused to allow a gentle stream of memories to filter through his consciousness. How many times had he passed this way before, to seek out wayward Gryffindors after curfew who were just asking to lose some House Points? Ah, those were the days. Simpler times. Before the inevitable return of the Dark Lord; before the inevitable return of James Potter's progeny. Back when he had little more to worry about than nitwits blowing up his Potions classroom, or who would be awarded the House Cup. It was almost enough to make one sentimental.

With a self-deprecating huff, Severus continued down until he reached the short hall leading to his old quarters. As the sconces lit his way, he could dimly make out the figure of Hermione at the end of the hall, leaning against his false doorway. It was a small comfort to know that his wards had been left in place.

Hermione smirked at Severus' approach: a familiar figure all in black, looking positively intimidating as he cut a clean line straight toward her, sconces coming to life where he stepped.

"Do they always do that, or are you just being deliberately sexy?" she asked— indicating the lit sconces—as he stopped in front of her.

Severus seemed momentarily caught off-guard by the question before he quickly collected himself and replied, looking directly at her and speaking in a tenor which never failed to stir something deep inside, "A perk of being Head of House."

_What was that look that she was giving him, now? _Severus was uncertain how to interpret it.

"You're a brave girl, finding your way here in the dark," Severus intoned, unable to keep his voice from coming out as suggestive as it did. "Weren't you afraid of what you might encounter all the way down here?"

"Well I was hoping to encounter _you_, and sooner... What kept you? No trouble with the boys, I hope?"

Severus shook his head, knowing that he was just standing there staring at Hermione, but unable to do otherwise.

"Hmm..." Hermione replied, unconvinced, reluctant to pry further. Severus was staring at her as if he wasn't sure what to do with her; as if he were a spider and she were a honey bee caught in his web — ripe for the taking, but not without the risk of getting stung.

"Well?" Hermione asked, her voice low, "Aren't you going to open the door?"

"That's not a door," Severus replied matter-of-factly, enjoying Hermione's look of confusion before reaching for the base of the sconce beside him and giving it a firm tug. A low rumble sounded from the wall as stones shifted to reveal the real doorway to Severus' old quarters.

"Now you're just showing off," Hermione smirked sarcastically as Severus unlocked the door and pushed it open, holding out his hand to bid her to pass through first.

As Hermione entered the dank old space, she was immediately struck by a familiar smell. It was Severus' scent, but amplified: damp stone and cold earth; ancient parchment and black squid ink; wool and cedar; asphodel, oakmoss, and a myriad of other potion ingredients ranging from the most common to the most obscure. This was Snape's lair, sure enough. For years she had been smelling these notes whenever he'd swoosh past in a billow of black. It was a scent she had unconsciously associated with power; with intimidation — but also with awe and reverence. And now, with much more.

Severus lit some candles on an old desk and sternly regarded some parchments that had been left there. He appeared troubled to see them still waiting as he'd left them, undisturbed.

"Does it bother you, being back here again?" Hermione asked softly, taking off the cloak he'd lent her and draping it carefully over the back of an armchair.

"I don't mind," was Severus' quiet reply, though Hermione wasn't sure he meant it.

After regarding him for a moment, she asked, "Maybe I'm intruding... do you mind that I'm here?"

"No," Severus answered firmly, turning to face her. Hermione smiled softly at him, then seemed to develop a sudden shyness, looking down at the floor, then cautiously around the room. "The bath is through there," Severus offered, indicating the bedroom.

"Oh... all right." Hermione smiled, nervously. Severus was unsure how to proceed.

"Shall I call a house elf?" he suggested, at a loss. "Or would you like me to..."

"Oh, if you don't mind," Hermione agreed, looking grateful, then chewing her lip as she followed Severus through the bedroom—deliberately not looking at the large four-poster in the center of the space—and into the tastefully-appointed bath.

Severus looked decidedly unsure of himself as he glanced about the room as if scanning for anything embarrassing, then approached the tub with uncertainty. He began to unfasten his cuffs and roll up his sleeves — an action which Hermione found startlingly attractive, to the point that her mouth went a bit dry.

After stoppering the basin, Severus glanced up and noticed Hermione chewing on her lip as she watched him, with a bit more color in her cheeks than had been there a moment ago. He definitely wasn't sure how to interpret that.

"Um... I believe that this knob... yes, this one controls the hot water," Severus started explaining, turning the knob and testing the temperature as water came rushing out of the ancient silver faucet, splashing over the pale skin of his hand and wrist, "...and this is cold." After adjusting each knob slightly, Severus seemed to reach a satisfactory temperature before he stood to dry his hand with a towel. Hermione was leaning against a yellowed marble countertop across from him, watching him with a slightly self-conscious, slightly alluring posture, as if she felt too exposed standing there in her soiled negligee, but also had a burning compulsion to strip it off right there in front of him.

"When's the last time you had a bath?" She asked, her voice coming out surprisingly thin.

Severus reached around to pull on the back of his neck, tilting his head as he murmured, "I've always preferred the shower," flicking his wrist to indicate the shower stall behind him.

"How very Muggle of you," Hermione joked.

"Yes. Well, I'll leave you to it," Severus replied, backing out of the room in a clear retreat. "You should find everything you need on the shelf here, or in those drawers. Please help yourself. I'll be just out here if you need anything."

Before Hermione could summon the courage to protest, Severus had shut the door behind him. Her shoulders slumped forward in disappointment. _Damn! That wasn't how this was supposed to go! What went wrong? Only ten minutes ago she'd been ready to jump his bones! Where had this sudden awkwardness come from? One moment she's all confidence and innuendo, the next, she's a blushing girl way out of her league! _

Looking in the mirror, Hermione frowned at her reflection, wondering just who was looking back at her. Though the features were all familiar enough by now, she could hardly recognize this new version of herself. There stood Hermione the Schoolgirl, all grown up but still lacking in confidence, who was painfully aware that she hadn't completed her education—that the opportunity to do so had been stolen from her—and whose magical abilities were way out of practice. There also stood Nina, another part of her; a part that developed out of extraordinary hardship, whose knowledge and experiences had become her own, even if she wasn't exactly sure how to handle them. But someone else was standing there as well: someone even newer, who had been buried beneath the other two and was at last able to come into the light and stare back at her, knowing more than any version of herself ever knew before. This was who she was meant to be. This was the Hermione who was born out of both worlds. This was the Hermione who could do anything she set her mind to, however impossible it seemed. The Hermione who had just passed through a pitch-black corridor by feeling her way through the dark, just to prove that she could. This is the Hermione who would save her; the woman who she was still in the process of becoming, and who—deep down—she was, and always had been. The Hermione who...

_Oh. Right, that too._

She bit her lip, knowing that it was true and there was no use hiding from the fact, however scary.

This was the Hermione who was completely in love with Severus Snape.

...

He was beginning to feel like he might be developing something of a bathtub fetish where Hermione Granger was concerned. How many times had he been in this ridiculous position, now? Ten? Twenty? He'd lost count. Here he was again, trying to occupy himself while Hermione bathed in the next room; trying not to picture what was going on in there; trying not to get turned on by something as simple as the sound of shifting bathwater.

When in his life had he ever been this confused? This conflicted? When had he ever felt as thoroughly lost and ridiculous as he did now? What was he even doing, anymore? He'd been telling himself that everything he'd been through lately—all the indignities he'd been made to suffer—was in service to Hermione, who he'd sworn to protect; whose recovery had become his great purpose. Now her memories were restored, thanks to a bungled attempt by two nitwits to ambush him. They'd nearly killed her, but, ultimately, it was their ineptitude which saved her. Despite all his efforts, it hadn't been him. That rankled more than anything else. It should have been him, but it wasn't.

Was this the prophecy then, coming to fruition? How had that gone, again?

_When three cubs of Gryffindor— the Ace, the Knave, the Virgin Whore—_

_Are joined upon the path once more, then shall the tide of an endless war_

_Begin to turn again, in favor _

_Of a young and worthy savior._

Was this what was foretold? Potter and Weasley accidentally happen upon Hermione, and suddenly she's cured? The two dunderheads get their friend back, and suddenly they have what they need to defeat the Dark Lord? .._.Each other_?

He had to admit that it all made a kind of irritating sense. What he was reluctant to admit, however, was just where he happened to fit in to this Big Picture. A nagging voice at the back of his mind was hinting that, perhaps, his role was nearly finished. He'd help Potter find the remaining horcruxes, and figure out how to destroy them — that much, at least, he felt capable of contributing. The rest, he supposed, was out of his hands...

And of course, Hermione—once ready and able (which, knowing her, wouldn't be much longer)—would insist on helping her friends fulfill that damned prophecy. Never mind how she felt about him. That was immaterial. There were more pressing matters at hand, now. He'd have to be a fool to hope that she'd turn away from all that to be with him. A fool to even consider the possibility. A damned selfish fool to even want it.

But he did want it, nonetheless. He wanted her. That was all. The rest of the Wizarding World could go to hell for all he was concerned. He'd paid his dues. He owed them nothing.

But Hermione... he'd never stop owing her. He'd taken plenty from her, and still wanted more. It wasn't fair of him. She didn't belong to him, no matter how much he wanted to claim her as his own. She belonged to something greater now, and it would be cruel of him to try and stand in the way of that.

But he would try anyway, wouldn't he? Was he even capable of stopping himself from trying?

Could he even bear to do the right thing and let her go, now that he... _loved_... her?...

_NO! _Blast it, he wouldn't give her up, not now! Not after everything that had happened! They'd never take her from him, he wouldn't allow it! Damn it, if Potter or Weasley even _tried _to take her with them on their half-baked mission to defeat the most dangerous wizard in England... well, they'd have to do it over his dead body. _To hell with the prophecy! To hell with duty!_ What was it all for, if it meant that he'd be denied the only happiness he'd ever been allowed a chance at in this life? _To hell with self-recrimination, castigation and endless remorse! To HELL with lifelong penance, self-flagellation –– humiliation and hairshirts! _He'd done his time! What gods could still demand more of him? What ghosts could haunt him? Wasn't his soul depleted enough by now? Hadn't they taken their fill?

"Severus, is everything all right?" Hermione asked timidly, peeking around the bathroom door to see what had caused the sudden crash.

At the far side of the room, Severus stood over a small desk freshly cleared of its furnishings, leaning heavily, surrounded by a mess of parchments and scattered whatnots.

Turning to her then with a look of such unexpected intensity, Severus caused Hermione's breath to catch as she stood there, wide-eyed, clutching a towel to her chest, wondering what in the world had happened to him.

In that moment, Severus was done feeling ridiculous. He was done feeling guilty. He wanted to feel something else. Something simpler. Something better.

As soon as the thought entered his mind, Hermione recognized it for what it was. Or maybe Nina did — it didn't matter; they were one and the same, now. Upon recognizing it, she felt a kind of sinking feeling in her belly and a thickness in her throat — _it was so raw,_ so openly revealed in those black eyes of his. Terrifying to behold in such a pure state, but thrilling, too. Her heart sped up. She didn't dare blink. He looked like a predator ready to pounce lest her slightest movement betray her. Her abdominal muscles contracted, her breath hitched. He saw it. She let go of her towel.

Severus inhaled sharply as the towel hit the floor, revealing Hermione, naked, half-concealed in the doorway, standing unsteadily, her wet thighs shifting anxiously against each other as she took in a shaky breath, looking like she was about to faint—whether from fear or arousal was uncertain. Both, it seemed.

Severus reached for his collar and began unfastening his long row of buttons, never breaking his intense stare. An unendurable tension was building in the space between them, so thick it was hard to breathe. Ten buttons. Nine. Eight. Hermione wavered where she stood and gripped the doorjamb to steady herself. Three. Two. One. Severus shrugged out of his robe and began unfastening his waistcoat. His eyes were smoldering with white-hot desire, boring into her with palpable force. Even at such a distance he'd started a fire inside of her, and she was melting where she stood.

Off came the waistcoat. He was unbuttoning the shirt, faster now, every last ounce of patience draining away. Hermione was shivering. He knew it wasn't from cold. Quickly, almost angrily, he pulled off the shirt. He was stepping out of his boots as he unfastened his trousers, and watched as a timid tongue flicked out to moisten Hermione's lips. He had to restrain himself from making a growling noise at the sight of it.

Faster now. With a kind of desperation he tugged off his trousers, pants and socks, then rose up, naked and formidably aroused, closing in on the breathless young witch standing so brazenly in his private chamber. She instinctively took a step back as he pushed through the doorway, slamming the door shut behind him. He looked positively ferocious, and she wasn't completely sure that he wouldn't eat her whole on the spot.

He stared her down, waiting for her to make the next move. Even with a couple feet between their bodies, she could feel the heat rolling off his alabaster skin; could sense the power in his taut muscles — the urgency.

She tried to speak, to say his name, but no sound came out. He watched the flash of her throat as she swallowed thickly around the lump that had formed there, and let out a low, guttural sound as he reached to grip her neck, gently, with restrained power in every flex of his fingers as he wound them around her beautiful skin, running his thumb down her throat as he leaned in to kiss her.

Hermione inhaled sharply through her nose as their lips met — soft at first, then his tongue pushed into her mouth and found hers ready to meet it, and the kiss turned feral very quickly. His arms swept over her back and gathered her toward him as hers wound around his neck, and a tiny moan slipped from his mouth into hers as her breasts smashed into his chest.

Her body was still wet from her bath, causing her naked skin to slide against his deliciously as they fought to get closer to one another. His strong, needy hands were moving all up and down the length of her now, and when one gripped a firm handful of her full and slippery left buttock, she cried out in pleasure, causing him to growl again and dig his fingers deeper into the sweet flesh.

The sounds she was making spurred him to do something unexpected: releasing his grip, Severus suddenly raised his hand and bore down on Hermione's perfect bum with a loud _slap_ that reverberated through the room. Hermione gasped, eyes widening at the unexpected burst of sharp sensation. She looked up at Severus, and found him staring at the mirror behind her with a strange, glazed look in his eyes while he ran soothing fingers over the smarting skin. She turned, and—seeing the red handprint forming on her pale skin—felt a sudden surge of eroticism. Snape had branded her.

Suddenly his hands were on her shoulders and turning her around—a little roughly, though she certainly wasn't complaining—to face the mirror. She gasped as he took her chin in his hand and held her there, looking into her eyes through the reflection. He looked like a man possessed, and her heart sped up at the sight.

"Do you want me, Hermione?" He rasped into her ear, his breath hot on her face.

Unable to speak, she nodded her head, still held by his hand. His grip slipped from her chin as his fingers wound themselves in a loose hold around her neck, his palm cupping her throat. His right hand had slid up her side to play with her breast as he intently watched her expression through the mirror, reveling in her soft sounds of surrender.

"_Tell me you're mine_," he demanded, lowly, dangerously, as her eyes started to close in bliss at his ministrations. "_Tell me,_" he insisted, forcing her eyes to open wide again as he tweaked her nipple between his supple fingers.

"I am," she whispered, her words causing the delicate sinews of her throat to undulate sweetly against his hot palm, "_you know I am..._"

Severus let out a strangled sound of pleasure at that, lowering his head to skim his crooked teeth against the skin of her shoulder, nipping softly at the taut flesh before tasting it with his long tongue. As Hermione wriggled against him, his grip on her throat tightened as he huffed hot air against the base of her neck.

"_You're mine_," he muttered against her skin, running a possessive hand over her torso.

"_Yes..._" Hermione breathed, leaning into his touch.

"_Not theirs..._" Severus growled, digging his fingertips into the skin of her thigh as he clawed upward toward her unmarked buttock.

"_Yours, _Severus..." Hermione whined, whimpering at his touch, "_all yours!"_

Severus' hair fell in front of his face as he suddenly bent Hermione over the countertop and pulled back to get a view of her bum, raising his right arm and watching as his hand smacked down loudly on the untouched cheek. Hermione yelped as the flesh jiggled in tiny waves around the point of collision, and Severus let out a small _ungh_ at the brilliant sight. He soothed the spot with his fingers for a moment before dropping to his knees and planting soft kisses around the developing mark where his hand had been, stroking Hermione's thighs as he kissed her smarting bum. She clutched the countertop as she watched him, breathing heavily.

Soon his hand had worked its way high enough that it met with the slippery flood of her arousal, and Severus groaned against Hermione's reddened arse, sending tiny vibrations through her most sensitized parts. Inhaling sharply, she made a lovely, soft sound when his fingers slipped further up and lightly teased her wet, swollen sex.

Unable to take the anticipation any longer, Severus rose and swooped Hermione up in his arms, relishing her dazed expression as he kissed her soundly and carried her over to the bathtub. Carefully stepping into the oversized basin, he lowered the two of them until he was seated on a submerged ledge with water up to his waist, Hermione sprawled across his lap. She kissed him then, long and languidly before shifting to straddle his thighs.

The pair exchanged a desperate look as Hermione rose up to position herself while Severus guided the tip of his aching erection between her slick folds. They were both breathing heavily, nearly blind with arousal.

"Is this what you want?" Severus teased in a husky voice, driving her crazy as he slid the swollen head of his penis over her sensitized clitoris.

"_Oh god, yes!" _Hermione whined, shifting her body in a struggle for further contact. As she bit down hard on her lower lip, Severus swooped forward to push his tongue into her mouth before sucking her lip between his own teeth.

Hermione ground her body against his, desperate for fulfillment. Unable to contain himself any longer, Severus suddenly thrust up, piercing through her tight opening as he gripped her hips with bruising force. Hermione let out a long, wavering wail as he drove himself deep inside of her, determined to fill her to the brim. Her immense arousal combined with the slickness of the bathwater eased the task considerably, and soon he had her bouncing on top of him in a rapidly building rhythm, bathwater sloshing over the sides of the tub as the motion made waves on the water's surface.

Severus felt that he might actually be going blind then as phosphenes exploded in his field of vision, his synapses short-circuiting from the sheer pleasure of watching Hermione ride him in his bathtub, her perfect breasts bouncing with each powerful thrust of his hips, her eyes rolling back and her mouth open wide as all kinds of sweet new sounds poured out of her.

She was more beautiful than ever as her soft curls clung wetly to her outstretched neck, wrapping around it as possessively as his fingers had done when he'd held her in front of the mirror. Her face was flushed, her lips full and rosy, bitten by his rough kisses. He reached around her back and pulled her closer to him, feeling her breasts bounce against his chest as he drove into her even harder, muttering, "_mine... mine..._" between clenched teeth.

Suddenly she let out a strange cry, and he knew she was close. Clutching her tightly to him, he thrust into her with all that he had, moaning as he felt her orgasm grip him tightly and unfold in tremulous waves that shook her whole body, Hermione crying out desperately into his damp hair.

As the tremors slowly subsided, Severus gentled his thrusts as he absorbed each and every movement of her body, carefully studying the effect of her orgasm. It was, perhaps, the most beautiful phenomenon he'd ever witnessed. He couldn't get enough of it; couldn't get enough of her.

Slowing down so that he could lean her back enough to suck her breast into his mouth, Severus began using his tongue to toy with her nipple, drawing out her sensations further as she continued to pulse around him. She felt weak in his arms, trembling and delirious with pleasure.

Eventually he allowed himself to slip out of her as he moved to turn her around, coaxing her to rest against the side of the tub as he ran soothing hands over her back and shoulders, then down to her bum where the rosy outline of his handprints still remained. She cooed in bliss as he touched her gently, possessively, licking bathwater off her slippery skin before planting wet kisses wherever his mouth could reach. After playing with her like this for some time, his hands began to stray slowly up her submerged thighs as her arousal started to build all over again.

When his long fingers started playing with her slippery folds, she lost herself again in a haze of lust. He was losing control again behind her, sucking bathwater off the base of her neck as he ground his erection between her buttocks, his fingers working magic underneath.

When she started to push back against him, meeting his needy thrusts, he couldn't restrain himself any longer. Guiding himself beneath her, he started taking her from behind, pushing into her tightly from this new angle and hitting places that made her gasp with pleasure. She couldn't hold back the second orgasm that overtook her rapidly, moaning until her voice broke as Severus rode through it with renewed force — not pausing to savor it this time, just driving into her madly, grunting hoarsely as his hair clung to his face, on and on until he reached the edge of his fevered trance. With one last, desperate thrust he felt his seed explode into her hot little body, searing his mark deep inside of her. He gasped, shuddered, and held her in place with a firm hand on her sore hip until he'd emptied all of himself into her. Then—absently—he stroked her wet flanks as he slowly came back to himself, his clouded vision clearing from the thick haze of lusty madness.

Hermione lay still against the hard marble edge of the tub, ignoring the slightly uncomfortable position as she gloried in the singular sensation of having just been quite thoroughly shagged by Severus Snape. Slipping out of her, Severus slid weakly onto the ledge beside her, his breathing labored. After regaining some small use of his limbs, he managed to draw her into his lap, leaning her chest flush against his as their breathing steadied together, lazily stroking one limp hand up and down the long, graceful curve of her back.

"I think I'm beginning to revise my opinion on bath taking," Severus joked weakly.

Hermione's mouth formed a broad smile against Severus' neck before kissing the skin tenderly. This man. As far as she was convinced, he was hers — now, and always. She wouldn't mind taking baths with him for the rest of her life. _If only they could stay in that tub forever..._

_Oh... right. _They couldn't move into the bathtub together, not just yet...

"Severus..." Hermione breathed, running her fingers over the taut plane of his chest.

"Hmm," came his contented reply.

Hermione sat up slightly, just enough to look at him with as much seriousness as she could muster and ask, "Weren't we supposed to be discussing horcruxes?"

...


	59. Chapter 59

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Chapter 59

.

"_Weren't we supposed to be discussing horcruxes?"_

Severus was too spent to even try masking his confusion at the abrupt transition to that topic. Blinking and squinting as he first concentrated on restoring his lust-addled vision, he pulled back slightly as he turned to regard the naked witch leaning against him. Her mock-serious expression quickly dissolved into an impish grin at the sight of her lover's perplexity. Severus' eyes softened when he realized that she was teasing him, and he moved to peel her wet hair from her face, reminded of all those times when she used to tease him back in Australia. _It seems 'Nina' is still around..._

As he touched her face, gently rearranging her hair, Hermione watched the dark man's fond expression begin to cloud over with something that seemed to trouble him. She wondered why he had become so quiet.

"I'm kidding, of course," she assured him, lifting a hand to run her knuckles along his jaw. "You can tell me all about the horcruxes once we've put some clothes on — not that I'm in any particular hurry..." she smiled.

Severus took her hand from his jaw and held it against his face for a moment, still regarding her strangely, then turned his head to plant a soft kiss against her palm. When he opened his eyes, Hermione was certain she saw sadness there. Upon seeing it she became suddenly aware of just how much the bathwater had cooled, and she was unable to repress a slight shiver. Severus drew her closer to him, wrapping his arms around her and resting his chin on top of her head.

"Did you mean it?" he finally asked, his voice thready and roughened from their exertions.

Hermione tried to imagine what he was referring to. "Mean what?"

Stroking her back, Severus hesitated before quietly clarifying, "When you told me that you were mine."

The uncertainty in his voice made her heart twist. "I meant it," she answered, her voice small. She pressed closer against him, and felt his arms tighten around her in response. He inhaled deeply. Another silence stretched out as she waited for him to say whatever it was that he meant to say to her.

After awhile he spoke again. His voice was stronger now, but still unsteady.

"You are... very young."

Hermione scrunched her brow as she considered that statement, then admitted, "Yes."

Severus exhaled slowly, his roving fingers drawing long, looping patterns on the soft skin of her back. She waited patiently for him to continue.

"I am considerably older," he said, lowly, as if confessing something that wasn't patently obvious.

"I don't mind," Hermione quietly assured him. His fingers stilled on her back a moment, then began drawing one continuous circle against her shoulder blade as he considered his next words.

"I never set out to seduce one of my students," he finally spoke in gravelly bluntness.

"...I haven't been your student in quite a while..."

"All the same, it was never my intention."

"I know."

"...Do you? ...Others won't be so certain."

"I don't care what others have to say about it," Hermione feebly insisted.

"You might, given time..."

Hermione frowned, shaking her head in negation against Severus' chest.

"What does any of that matter, now?" She asked meekly, wishing they could postpone this particular discussion for another time. "I'm happy right where I am. Isn't that enough?"

Severus hugged her tight again, sighing into her hair. They were quiet again for a few beats.

"The bathwater is getting cold," Hermione observed.

"Yes."

Severus didn't seemed inclined to move. Hermione nuzzled against him, her eyes distant as he soothed her back with the warm flat of his hand. She listened to the rhythm of his heartbeat, noting the irregularities. He felt hers beating gently against his ribs. He closed his eyes. They both knew that they'd have to get out of the tub eventually, but neither wanted to initiate that departure just yet.

...

Ron found Harry in the old DADA classroom, practicing hexes on one of the dummies. Though he wouldn't have called it "practicing," exactly, as Harry seemed less intent on honing his skills than he did on tactlessly wailing on the thing. Ron cleared his throat, and Harry turned to him, breathless and frustrated, wiping sweat from his brow with his sleeve.

"I, uh... wanted to say sorry, I guess," Ron shrugged, kicking at the stone floor.

"You don't have anything to apologize to me about, Ron," Harry replied dismissively. He seemed eager to resume his 'practice.'

Ron exhaled a short huff, twisting his mouth before continuing, "Yeah, well, I'm sorry anyways. For whatever it's worth. If you want to call me a prat, go ahead. You don't have to take all your anger out on that dummy."

"I'm not angry," Harry insisted, his words lacking conviction when followed immediately by an explosive hex to the dummy's midsection.

"Right. Well, I also wanted to say that maybe you were right, back there... about Hermione."

Harry paused, glancing at Ron while he maintained his battle posture.

"What are you saying?" he asked before casting another blow.

"I'm saying that I wasn't thinking straight... that bloody horcrux really did a number on me this time, Harry... and, well... maybe I am... jealous..."

"So?" (another hex).

"You know, mate, you're really not making this any easier for me," Ron blurted in exasperation. Harry let out a short sigh before lowering his wand and approaching his friend with some degree of indulgence.

"All right, Ron. Sorry. What do you want to tell me."

"We shouldn't have let her go down there, Harry. With Snape."

"Well it's too late to stop her, now..."

"But doesn't it bother you? I mean, what do you think they're really doing down there?" Ron asked vehemently, clearly discomfited by the thought.

"I have no idea. Hopefully they're trying to figure out what to do about the horcrux..."

"Thanks, Harry," Ron scoffed. "You really know how to set a bloke's mind at ease."

"Well what do you want me to say?" Harry implored, "Do you want me to tell you that they're probably down there humping each other? That Snape probably has his _cock out_ as we speak? _What?"_

"Bloody hell!" Ron protested, grimacing at the mental picture.

"I'm sorry! But I _really don't_ have any idea what they're up to, or how to stop it now. Are you trying to say that you want to go down there and find out?"

"I dunno... it might not be a bad idea..."

"It's a crap idea, but if that's what you want to do, I'll back you." Harry told his friend, at a loss.

"...This is _Hermione,_" Ron persisted, as if Harry wasn't clear on that. "She's our friend, no matter what. Maybe she did change a bit since she's been away, but she's still our friend."

"I know..."

"Which means we have to look out for her."

Harry sighed in capitulation. "...Right."

"Because that's what friends do."

"All right, Ron. I get it."

"This isn't just about my feelings for her," Ron insisted. "...Not that I even still have any..."

"Sure, Ron."

"This is about _doing the right thing_. About making sure she's safe."

Nodding in agreement, Harry put his hand on his friend's shoulder and steered him out into the hallway.

"She might not even know what she's doing," Ron pondered out loud as Harry led him toward the dungeon. "I mean, who knows _what_ kind of hold he might have over her..."

"I don't think it's like that, Ron. It really looked like he was trying to help back there..." At Ron's helpless expression, Harry quickly added, "Not that I'm siding with the greaseball... not a chance... only, I didn't _want_ to trust him, but something about the way he handled everything made me think that he really might not be as bad as we thought he was."

"He killed Dumbledore, Harry!" Ron reminded him in a harsh whisper.

"I haven't forgotten," Harry solemnly asserted.

"Well?"

"I'm just thinking that..." slowly, he continued, "...that there might have been more to it than I originally thought."

Perplexed, Ron shook his head as he tried to account for Harry's inexplicable change of heart. Only hours ago, the two of them had been plotting to assassinate the bastard. Now Harry was reconsidering his entire perspective on the old git?

"I don't get it. You _hate _Snape. We were going to _kill him_ together."

"That might have had more to do with the horcrux than with common sense..."

"...Maybe... but I'm still surprised that you're willing to trust him after all of that."

"I never said that I trust him," Harry corrected. "I'm just not so sure about anything anymore. That's why I was attacking that dummy back there," he explained, gesturing toward the third floor stairwell—right before it relocated itself. "I wasn't mad at you, I just wanted to clear my head."

Ron regarded his friend strangely, recognizing the sense in his words and wondering if this idea to storm the dungeons wasn't so great after all. But then he remembered Hermione: how happy he'd been to see her alive; how different she'd looked, and how much it hurt to realize how long they'd been apart from each other; but also how heart-wrenchingly _beautiful_ she was — more than ever. He remembered the way she'd looked at Snape, and how eagerly the erstwhile Potions Professor had followed her down into that dark cavern. The memory made something sink in the pit of his stomach.

"We just have to make sure she's all right," Ron murmured sullenly.

...

"Um... I'm not wearing this," Hermione announced from the bathroom as Severus put his own clothes back on.

Turning around, Severus' brows rose to his hairline when he saw what she meant. Hermione stood in the doorway holding the garments that Kreacher had brought her, draping them over her half-naked body with an affronted expression.

Severus bit back a laugh. "I can't imagine where that elf found such a relic," he joked, stepping toward her to get a closer look. She was holding an old-fashioned Hogwarts uniform — one of the female styles from the early 1930s, by the look of it. Ironically, Kreacher had produced a uniform particularly tailored to a female Slytherin, as the black fitted gymslip bore the Slytherin crest, and around the neck of the white button-down undershirt was a green and silver striped tie.

"You're enjoying this far too much," Hermione complained, seeing the plain amusement on Severus' face. "Why would Kreacher give me an old Slytherin uniform to wear?"

"I truly doubt he meant anything by it," Severus drawled, running an appreciative finger over the silk of the necktie. "That elf has as much sense of humor as a Gringotts goblin."

"Well, I'm not putting it on," Hermione pouted. "It's frumpy looking."

"Hmm," Severus purred, "I certainly don't mind if you'd rather walk around my rooms in nothing but your knickers..." pulling the outfit down to expose her breasts, he let it fall to the floor as he smoothed a hand over her cotton-clad backside before continuing, "but I expect that your little friends might find it objectionable..."

Hermione gasped as he squeezed her bum, reigniting the soreness from his handprint. At the sound, he swooped down to kiss her, pulling her so close that her exposed nipples slid against the scratchy wool of his frock coat. Feeling warmth pooling between her legs, Hermione drew back with a shaky breath, wary of igniting his passion again so soon considering that she was still quite sore from earlier.

As she withdrew from him, Severus' expression clouded with concern. _Have I hurt her?_

"It's all right," she assured him, noticing his concern for her, "I'm fine," she winced, "just a little sore."

Severus seemed to blanch at that, and she wished she hadn't mentioned it. "Shall I fetch you a pain potion?" He asked, contrite.

"That's not necessary," Hermione smiled, "I'll be fine, honestly. I just... need a little break, before..."

Severus looked thoroughly chastened as he backed away from her, stiffening as he nodded in understanding. _He had been too rough with her – too selfish! And here he was ready to fuck her senseless again, before she'd barely had a moment to recover! What kind of lecherous maniac would she take him for? _He knew that he had to get away from her before he lost control again at the sight of her standing so vulnerably in front of him.

"I apologize," he winced, "I should let you get dressed in peace. Take your time. And please let me know if you change your mind about the potion," he urged as he backed out of the room, "I'll just be in my study."

"Wait, I didn't mean..." Hermione tried, but he had already shut the door behind him, leaving her standing half-naked next to a pile of unwanted clothing. With a sigh, she bent down to pick them up and look them over again. _Well, at least they're the right size..._

...

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><p><em>AN: Hello new followers! And thank you, all, for reviewing/subscribing/fav'ing!_


	60. Chapter 60

_A/N: (feel free to skip this note; I just wanted to clarify some intentions here) — some of you may be troubled by certain characters' attitudes and choices in this story. To that I just wanted to confide that this story is [very] loosely based on my own experiences in an unconventional relationship, particularly regarding the highs of it, but perhaps more importantly the mistakes that played out and the lessons learned. I'm toying with two possible endings: one that would reflect that reality, and another that would transform it. It's still up in the air but probably not that far off. Just a heads-up! _

__Also, a grammatical note: I realize that I should be capitalizing 'horcrux,' but since I failed to do so in earlier chapters, and since I'm not inclined to go back and fix every instance, I'm leaving it lowercase for the sake of consistency.__

* * *

><p>.<p>

Chapter 60

.

_"Alohomora!"_

"Really, Ron? Alohomora?"

"Well, you try something, then!" Ron groused. "Break it down if you have to!"

With the familiar glint-in-the-eye of a Gryffindor rising to a challenge, Harry took a moment to remember the wandwork associated with the incantation before trying, _"Portaberto!"_

Nothing.

_Damn..._ "The lock didn't even splinter..." Harry mused in an undertone. He took another stance.

"Step back," Harry warned his friend, "this could be dangerous..."

Ron moved out of the way and lifted his arm to shield his eyes.

"_Open Sesame!"_

When nothing happened, Harry scrunched his brow and checked his wand for any signs of a defect.

"I don't get it... that door should be kindling by now."

"What was that one that Hermione tried using to break Sirius out of Flitwick's office?" Ron asked.

"Alohomora — you already tried that one."

"No, before that... she tried using a couple spells that didn't work, remember?"

"Well, if _Alohomora_ didn't work this time, what makes you think those others would work now?" asked Harry impatiently.

"Do you have a better idea?" Ron shot back.

Thinning his lips, Harry took up a battle stance again before shouting _"BOMBARDA!"_

The force of the resulting blast knocked both wizards backwards as the old stone shook in a deep rumble, stirring up a large cloud of dust that obscured their vision as loose bits of gravel pelted them from the ceiling. When the dust had settled, both of them gaped to find that the door hadn't altered in the slightest.

Suddenly the stones from the wall beside them began shifting, and both scrambled backwards, afraid that the wall was about to collapse. Instead, they were mystified to see another door appear just before it was dramatically flung open by an irate Severus Snape.

"What the _HELL _is going on out here?!" He demanded.

"We were trying to open the door," Ron shrugged, wide-eyed, momentarily forgetting his own ire in the midst of such a confounding turn of events.

"That isn't a door!" Severus barked.

"Well we get that, now!" Ron huffed in defense, shaking the dust off himself as he awkwardly rose to his feet, helping Harry to do the same.

"We want to see Hermione," Harry announced.

"And you didn't think to try _knocking_?" Severus belittled.

"We're not asking permission," Harry glowered.

Narrowing his eyes at the brat, Severus looked about ready to deduct a severe quantity of House points before he felt a gentle hand touch his shoulder.

"It's all right," Hermione calmed, coaxing Severus to take a step back from the doorway, "Here I am, Harry... What is it?"

All three wizards were momentarily distracted from their enmity by the appearance of Hermione, dressed in her bizarre ensemble. It took some time for the boys to process the fact that Hermione was dressed as a Depression-era Slytherin student. Neither noticed that Severus looked even more discomfited by it than they did.

Ron was the first to recover.

"Bloody hell... I knew it. I _knew_ it!" He exclaimed, gesturing to Hermione as he turned toward Harry in an energetic appeal, "It's just as I thought! No, hold on — it's _even worse_ than I thought! Look! He's got her trussed up as some weird kind of... conservative-looking... _Slytherin hussy!"_

"_Look here, you little..."_

"Severus, don't," Hermione implored, stepping between the confrontational wizards.

"Oh, did you hear that, Harry? It's 'Severus,' now, too!" Ron gawked.

"Shut up, Ron," Hermione countered, "that's his name! And he didn't give me this outfit, Kreacher did— remember?"

Ron stopped short for a moment before continuing, "Yeah, well, I don't see him complaining about it!"

When Severus sneered and produced his wand in response, Harry was quick to draw his.

"Stop it! This is ridiculous!" Hermione huffed. "Here, give me that," she said to Severus, reaching for his wand. The boys were shocked to watch her take it from him without anything more than a mildly offended look from the Dark wizard.

"I'm going to go transfigure these clothes before they start a riot," she explained, looking properly annoyed by all the fuss.

"Put your wand away, Harry," she ordered, in such a way that Harry felt obliged to comply. "I'll be back in a moment. Try not to kill each other in the meantime."

With that (and just a slightly provocative sway of her hips) she stomped into the bedroom, shutting the door firmly behind her. The three wizards stood around awkwardly as they tried to decide what to do next. Eventually, Severus capitulated.

"You may enter my sitting room only if you promise not to behave like a couple of pubescent third-years," he offered resentfully.

Ron and Harry bit back any retort they wanted to make before shuffling inside, looking much less than pleased about it.

"Sit," Severus commanded, gesturing to a sofa. The boys both felt as if they were back in the Potion Master's old office, about to be served detention after being lectured at.

Deliberately taking his time before seating himself in an armchair opposite the would-be trespassers, Severus regarded the younger men with all the disapproving authoritarianism he had perfected during his tenure at Hogwarts. He was gratified to notice them shifting uncomfortably in response.

At length, he deigned to address them. "I suppose it would be too optimistic of me to expect that you came down here to throw hexes at my wall simply because you wanted to speak to Miss Granger about your horcrux problem."

Gritting his teeth, Ron replied, "We didn't know that it was just a wall."

"I gathered as much," Severus patronized, hiding his amusement.

"This isn't about the horcrux," Harry muttered. "This is about Hermione."

"Yeah," Ron added, "_our_ friend."

Severus flinched imperceptibly, finding the possessive tone of Ron's statement most distasteful.

"What about her?" He asked, infusing the question with a touch of danger.

"What's she doing down here?" Ron demanded.

Severus favored the younger man with a disparaging look before answering, "You know perfectly well that she's transfiguring her clothing."

"That's not what he meant," Harry grouched. "Tell us what she's doing with you."

Severus feigned an air of innocence as he inquired, "Whatever do you mean by that, Potter?"

"You know damn well what he means!" Ron whispered harshly, turning a bit red. "Tell us what the hell is going on between the two of you, and quit pretending like you don't understand what we're asking!"

"I don't have to explain myself to either of you," Severus spat, clearly fed up with their line of questioning. "If you insist on prying into affairs that don't concern you in the slightest, you'll wish you never stepped foot in this room, because _I won't stand for it_."

"Fine," Harry acquiesced, albeit belligerently, "then we'll find out from Hermione what these 'affairs' are all about... but one way or another, we _will _ find out."

Severus stared down the younger nemesis, very much wishing that he had his wand back.

...

_Come on, Hermione... you didn't spend all those extra hours studying Transfiguration techniques for nothing!_

Looking down at the carefully laid-out ensemble with determination, Hermione focused on the correct application of the transformation formula. She recalled the countless hours she'd spent preparing for her O.W.L. exam, and all the scientific details of this highly nuanced practice that she'd gleaned from texts both mandatory and extra-curricular. Although she'd been kidnapped shortly after the completion of her exams—and therefore never got to find out what scores she would have achieved—she had felt confident enough after finishing her Transfiguration O.W.L., satisfied that she'd demonstrated 'Outstanding' ability. In fact, the only O.W.L. exams whose results she'd fretted over had been the practical portion of the Defense Against the Dark Arts exam (_her patronus had been a bit iffy_), and that of Potions (_owing to the surly instructor's exceptionally high standards_). Transfiguration, however, had been one of her stronger suits.

_Then why couldn't she remember how to precisely calibrate her wand's power output for a lightweight object? _...She was certainly out of practice, but that shouldn't mean that the most basic principles of Transubstantial Transfiguration would elude her...

Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and imagined herself back in her old Transfiguration classroom. Gradually, everything else fell away as she reembodied the brainy know-it-all of her youth, reclaiming her sense of intellectual prowess. _She could do this. _

She spoke the incantation and brandished the wand just so, without overthinking it. She watched as the gymslip stretched, divided, and altered according to her specifications. After a few adjustments, she had successfully transfigured the lower portion of the old garment into a lightly pleated, knee-length skirt. _Perfect! She __**could**__ do this!_

Feeling more confident, she turned her attention to the upper portion of the black gymslip, which now resembled a boxy tank top. _That won't do..._ With another incantation and a practiced swish, she separated the Slytherin crest from the breast piece, then began stretching and thinning the black straps. After some trial and error, she managed to transfigure the top into the approximate shape of a fine brassiere, though she was struggling to replicate the traditional hook-and-eye back closure. Eventually she gave it up as a lost cause and settled instead on using the gymslip's original buttons in the front, shrinking them down to produce an unconventional (but remarkably stylish), triple-button front closure balconette bra, in a high-cut longline style. _Very chic..._ Another adjustment transformed the coarse fabric into something far more delicate, then—as an afterthought—she turned the upper portion of each bra cup sheer, scalloping the edges along the top. Smirking, she suspected that her Nina side was contributing to these particular design choices.

Then, removing the silk tie from the shirt, she transfigured a matching pair of black knickers... also sheer... and saucily incorporated the Slytherin crest over the back of these, seamlessly working the detailed embroidery into the black mesh. _I just transfigured a set of lingerie! _She beamed with pride.

That left only the boxy white collared shirt, and the pair of saddle shoes that Kreacher had included in the bundle. She decided to leave the shoes as is, since they now matched the classic look she was aiming for. The shirt still needed to be shrunk down a bit until the darts were more flattering, the collar points rounded, and the sleeves were cropped at the elbows — then the starchy white fabric needed to be softened considerably. Another flick adjusted the color to a pale rose more suitable to her skin tone. When all this was done, she was looking at a brand new outfit that she couldn't wait to try on. _Not quite so frumpy anymore!_

...

Hermione emerged from the bedroom to find an atmosphere of no less animosity among the three wizards than had been there when she left. She immediately regretted spending so much time admiring the craftsmanship of her new lingerie set in front of Severus' cheval mirror (_but she couldn't get over how well each piece accented her womanly curves_...). It looked as if the wizards had spent the last several minutes glaring holes into each other before her presence interrupted the grim staring contest.

Severus turned to her with a look of relief as she approached, which quickly shifted into something else when she stepped into the lamplight, drawing his attention to the faint outline of her dark bra underneath the almost–sheer fabric of her pretty blouse. _Did she transfigure that, herself? _

The soft click of her heels drew his attention down to her new skirt, which swayed gracefully as she moved. Altogether the look she'd fashioned was quite tasteful, but something about it still made his mouth water.

Hermione noticed his approval, and blushed lightly at the knowledge that she had impressed him. With a grateful smile she handed his wand back to him.

"We're going to need to find you a wand of your own," he noted, leaning back to look her over appreciatively, "especially if this is the sort of thing you're capable of."

"Oh, I can do more than this," she smiled. "I think you might be surprised..."

Severus' eyes were sparkling with admiration, and the hint of something that oughtn't to be revealed in the presence of certain company. Certainly not amid present company. Harry cleared his throat.

"What did you want to see me about?" Hermione asked, looking to the two friends seated awkwardly on Snape's sofa.

"Um, well," Harry started, suddenly feeling a bit foolish in front of the well-composed, mature, and obviously not _Imperioed_ witch, "we were worried."

"About?"

"...You."

"Well thank you, but I'm fine. Severus and I were just about to discuss the horcrux issue until that over-dramatic interruption of yours."

Severus smirked at that.

"Well, _'Severus' _isn't exactly someone we're used to trusting," Ron defended, ignoring Severus' glare at the sound of his given name. In an undertone, Ron continued, "_Did you know that he killed Dumbledore?"_

Severus flinched. Hermione placed a hand on his shoulder as she addressed Ron.

"Yes, I knew that. I also know that he was acting under the Headmaster's own instructions."

"_He WHAT?"_

"Is that what he told you?" Harry demanded, taken aback. Severus let out a tired sigh.

"It's the truth, Potter," Severus murmured. "You weren't to know. No one could. If everything had gone according to plan, I would still be feigning allegiance to the Dark Lord, and no one would be the wiser. That was the Headmaster's intention."

"What's the end game, then?" Ron asked in disbelief. "What's the point if nobody even knows you're still on our side? You wouldn't be feeding us any information that way, so what good does spying on You-Know-Who do for anybody?"

Severus blinked at the brawny ginger, surprised that he was even able to manage a cogent train of thought.

"The plan, as the Headmaster conceived it, ran far deeper than I'm prepared to elaborate. Suffice it to say that I was meant to bide my time until the right moment."

"The right moment for what?" Harry implored, suddenly desperate for any explanation whatsoever.

Severus regarded the younger man skeptically, considering how to answer. "That's not for me to divulge. Not at present. When the time comes, you'll know it."

"Oh, perfect," Ron snorted, "so we're just supposed to believe that you're still working for the Order, and that you're withholding some game-changing secret from us until you're ready to share it. That's just great. Nothing suspicious about that at all."

"As a matter of fact, I was just sworn back into the Order a mere five hours ago," Severus remarked smugly.

"By who?" Harry scoffed.

"Minerva McGonagall," Severus cooly replied.

"I don't believe it."

"Nevertheless, it's the truth." He stated dismissively. Though he could have mentioned the Oath that Minerva made him swear — to protect Hermione with his own life if necessary — he decided to keep that piece of information to himself.

"Is he lying, Hermione?" Ron pressed.

Hermione looked to Severus in confusion, not having been present for his _de facto _re-initiation. "He wouldn't lie about that," she replied uncertainly.

"She wasn't there," Severus pointed out, "because you two dunderheads spirited her away, only to _stun her into unconsciousness_. You might imagine the chaos that ensued when she was discovered missing; _that _is why I was sworn in — I was going to find her."

Harry and Ron looked to each other as they considered the plausibility of that scenario. Scratching his head, Ron mumbled, "Well I guess it kind of makes sense..."

"You're saying that McGonagall believes that whole story about why you killed Dumbledore?" Harry pressed.

Severus took a steadying breath, closing his eyes against the tediousness of it all. "There's a bit more to it than that, but essentially, yes."

"Like what?" Ron asked.

The older wizard leaned back in his chair, realizing that he wasn't going to be allowed to rest anytime soon. It was shaping up to be a very long night.

"You know of only three horcruxes thus far," he began. "Tom Riddle's diary, which was destroyed by Basilisk venom; Salazar Slytherin's locket, which you haven't managed to destroy as yet; and a third — Marvolo Gaunt's ring." He spoke of the last horcrux with an ominous gravity that caught Hermione's attention, causing her to move from her place beside him to sit on the carpet in front of Ron, facing Severus. He watched her settle down—felt a moment of anxiety over her proximity to Weasley—and made sure that he had her full attention before continuing.

"You already know that the Headmaster managed to destroy that one, himself. What you did not know — what was deliberately kept secret from you, for reasons too convoluted to explain at this juncture — is that Professor Dumbledore paid a heavy price for that particular horcrux... A price which proved fatal."

Despite the solemnity of Severus' disclosure, Harry was reluctant to accept what he was hearing.

"But the ring didn't kill him — _you _did. I watched you do it."

"At _his_ behest. The ring's curse would have killed him eventually. He asked me to do it so that Draco wouldn't have to. He wished to spare the boy's soul."

"But what about your soul?" Hermione asked quietly. Severus looked to where she sat on the floor and watched as tears started to pool in her eyes. She was weeping for him. His heart fluttered erratically.

"Expendable," he softly replied.

The room grew quiet then in the wake of such a startling revelation. For several beats, the only audible sound was that of Hermione's shuddering intake of breath as she wiped the tears from her cheeks. Ron and Harry were staring at the ground, lost in thought as missing pieces of a longtime mystery fell silently into place.

Suddenly, the somber atmosphere was interrupted by a low cough from the far wall above the fireplace. Everyone jumped at the noise, turning toward it and scanning for the intruder. It took a moment before anyone realized that someone was looking down at them from the landscape painting hanging there.

"Please excuse the intrusion, Severus," Phineas spoke, "but might we have a word in private?"

...


	61. Chapter 61

_A/N: Ugh. Every time I go out of town, it's as if I hit some 'reset' button in my head which makes it very difficult to get back into whatever projects I was working on when I left. At least I was able to take down some useful notes for this story on the train... that's something, right? _

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><p>.<p>

Chapter 61

.

"_...might we have a word in private?"_

Severus stared in apparent shock at the likeness of the former Slytherin Headmaster standing precariously on a large, wave-battered rock — the color draining from his face as his agile mind worked rapidly to form various conclusions and possibilities. Gradually, that pale face hardened into something resembling resignation. In a frosty tone, he instructed, _"Leave us."_

Since his eyes hadn't strayed from the painting, Ron and Harry had assumed he was asking Phineas to leave, but a tentative gesture from Hermione indicated otherwise.

"Come on," she spoke quietly, "let's give them some privacy."

"What?" Harry murmured, looking to her in confusion as she nudged him toward the exit. "Wait a minute, how..."

"Not now, Harry," Hermione whispered, sensing that something big was about to happen, based on Severus' reaction. "Come on, Ron."

Ron looked between Severus and the painting again with a concerned frown as he slowly moved toward Hermione, helping her to usher Harry out of the room.

"Wait! What are you doing down here?" Harry demanded of Phineas, pushing against his friends as they held him back. "What's going on?"

Phineas tisked in displeasure at the uncouth display before haughtily addressing the younger wizard. "I am _not _Dumbledore, young man. I needn't explain anything to you. It would serve you well to realize that some questions are best left unanswered."

Harry looked more confused than offended as he asked, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Leave it, Harry," Ron whispered.

"You should heed your friends," Phineas advised, "at least _they_ seem to understand what 'private' means."

Harry scowled as he reluctantly allowed Ron and Hermione to lead him away. As soon as the threesome had crossed the threshold, Severus flicked his wand in a rapid succession of gestures that locked and warded the door behind them, ensuring that whatever transpired next would be kept strictly private. He approached the painting with a shuttered expression.

"Phineas."

"Severus."

"I'm not accustomed to being visited by portraits in my private quarters."

"No, indeed. An unusual circumstance, I'll grant you — but a necessary one."

Severus' quirked eyebrow prompted Phineas to elaborate, "I should also add — and excuse me for saying so — that these are not your 'private quarters' anymore, sir. Your return to Hogwarts was most unexpected."

Severus furrowed his brow at that, taking a moment to consider the ramifications of that statement before slowly asking, "Unexpected... by whom?"

Phineas' diminutive form fixed him with a solemn expression as he replied, "By all of us. Albus, included."

Severus' expression faltered for the briefest moment before shuttering again as he quietly asked (though it was more of a statement of fact), "He's here."

"Of course. Where else?"

"Potter never mentioned him," he remarked.

"That is because Potter has not spoken with him. The Headmaster's office has been kept off limits, though the rascal did make a considerable effort to break in. The elves have been instructed not to let anyone through."

"The elves..." Severus spoke, seemingly to himself. "Is that how...?"

"How I was able to travel between my portrait and this stunning _Böcklin*_?" Phineas guessed, the sarcasm in his assessment of the painting punctuated as he nearly lost his footing on his rock when a wave struck silently against it. "Indeed. The elves have been most accommodating ever since the school was closed. I suppose that with no one else to answer to, they consider we portraits the highest authority left — Albus, especially, since no one has succeeded him as Headmaster... yet."

Severus seemed troubled by the ambiguity of that last remark, but Phineas was quick to change the subject.

"Which brings me to the purpose of my visit. Albus wishes to speak with you, but urges that you not reveal his presence among us to Potter or any of his little friends. He would have you visit the Headmaster's office late this evening, well after the young Gryffindors have retired. You will have no trouble accessing the stairwell. Both the castle and the elves are expecting you."

"You underestimate the boy if you think he won't ask questions along those very lines."

"Ah. Yes, Albus anticipated as much. He wants you to tell him that I told you that his portrait is asleep, and has not awoken since his appearance."

Severus looked dubious at that. "Asleep? You expect him to believe that?"

"He can believe whatever he likes, it is no business of mine," Phineas scoffed. "Honestly, Severus, I don't see why _you_ should be so concerned about Potter's sensibilities. Albus certainly went out of his way to coddle the boy, but I would expect you to maintain an appropriate degree of indifference."

Annoyed, Severus muttered, "I'm merely pointing to a logical flaw in this plan. Potter is nothing if not persistent, as you saw but a moment ago."

"And I am certain that you are more than capable of handling his persistence," Phineas patronized. Before Severus could object to his tone, he surprised Severus by continuing, "I have always respected your resourcefulness, you know. Truly, of all the young Slytherins that have proven to be great wizards over the years, you especially struck me as a most promising candidate."

"A candidate for what?" Severus asked skeptically.

"For great things!" Phineas exclaimed, "Power! Position! Respect! You have certainly commanded as much from your students, but surely you aspired for more... I had such hopes," the old wizard confided with a defeated sigh, "Which, I'm sorry to say, were disappointed once I learned how you took off after that Granger girl. Tell me, Severus: what _were_ you thinking, risking everything like that?"

Severus looked thoroughly offended by this line of questioning, answering defensively, "I did my duty, not that it's any concern of yours."

"Duty, you say?" Phineas scoffed, "Do you really take this old man for such a fool?" Eying the younger wizard keenly, he asked, "Have you learned _nothing_ from your past transgressions?"

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean by that," Severus darkly replied.

"Come now! You know precisely what I mean! Risking _so much_ for _another Mudblood!"_

"Do _not. Use. That. Word." _Severus warned.

Phineas gave him a withering stare before replying, "Very well. _Muggle-born,_" he spoke distastefully,_ "_Another _Muggle-born_, Severus. And a student, at that!"

"She is not—"

"Pish! She was still a student the last time she was here, and that was hardly over a year ago! Can you really not grasp the _impropriety_ of the situation? Carrying on as you are? I had so hoped that by instructing Kreacher to give her that old uniform, you might come to your senses! But instead, she went and transfigured it into something befitting the little harlot that she is!"

Severus faltered at that, torn between his contempt for the way Phineas was speaking about Hermione and his surprise that the outfit had been the result of his meddling. _Of course, Kreacher would still be taking orders from Phineas, still loyal to the House of Black..._

"At least she had the decency to leave the shoes alone," Phineas remarked. "They seemed a particularly apt choice. Footwear can reveal so much about a person, you know... They were hardly shoes befitting any respectable witch, those old Muggle cast-offs — a child's style, at that. They seemed appropriate for a little girl of such ignominious parentage."

"Careful, old man..." Severus ground out, visibly antagonized by the diatribe.

"You are not so young anymore, yourself," Phineas pointed out. "Hardly the age to be chasing after teenaged Mu— uggle–borns," he quickly corrected, "no matter how... _accommodating_... they may be..."

When he saw Severus reach for his wand, Phineas realized he may have crossed a line and quickly reminded, "Remember your appointment!" before calling, "Kreacher, return me at once!"

Before Severus could hex the little painted man, he had disappeared from the bleak landscape, leaving Severus alone in the room. With a long sigh he ran a hand through his hair as at least ten different trains of thought rushed through his mind, competing for his attention. _Exactly how much did Phineas know about what had transpired between him and Hermione? Who else knew? Were the elves spying on them? What would he tell Hermione? Potter? Who was really in control, here? How safe were they? ..._

But most pressing of all, _What did Albus want from him, now? _

...

"I can't believe that Snape's been on our side this whole time," Ron murmured in disbelief as the flames from the fireplace projected dancing patterns across his face.

Harry just sat still, deep in thought, slumped forward on the ground with his elbows resting on his knees, head bowed. Hermione regarded him with a touch of concern before looking back to Ron on the couch beside her.

"It's really not that much of a surprise," she quietly conceded. Harry let out a small huff at that. The other two looked toward him in anticipation, but when it became clear that he wasn't going to add anything, Hermione continued, "I mean, think about it: there were so many times when he did things that just didn't make complete sense to us... we could never be sure about him, and that was the point, wasn't it? He had to make it that way, otherwise he'd be risking our safety, as well as his own. It couldn't have been easy for him."

"I guess not," Ron agreed. "He must have been some spy, to fool You-Know-Who for all that time... a great Legilimens, at that..."

"Right? And just think about how many times he was really protecting us, when we thought he was working against us! Remember when Lupin turned? Outside the Shrieking Shack?"

"Oh, yeah!" Ron pondered quietly, slowly reaching new conclusions about the 'old bat.' "I almost forgot... he shielded us! I always wondered why... I mean, I guess I thought it was just an act..."

"But it wasn't, it was instinct," Hermione pointed out. She was gratified to see Ron nodding in agreement.

"Don't get me wrong, he was still a total git most of the time... all of the time, pretty much," Ron shrugged, "...but I guess, now that I think about it... he kind of had to be, right?"

"Now you're getting it," Hermione smiled.

"But... does that mean that he's really just a _nice guy_?" Ron asked, with a face suggesting that the question felt ludicrous.

"Well, I might not go _that _far..." Hermione smirked. Harry let out a small snort, but kept quiet. "But I would say that he effectively used his natural personality to his advantage."

"Hah," Ron nodded, "yeah. That makes more sense."

"But he is a _good _guy, Ron," Hermione pressed. Ron gave her a funny look which made her blush slightly. "Truly," she said quietly, "he has to be, to do what he's done."

"But why?" Harry suddenly spoke, prompting both heads to turn toward him expectantly. He had been unusually quiet ever since they'd settled down in the old Gryffindor common room. Still facing the fire, Harry asked, "_Why _would he even do such a thing in the first place? What's in it for him?"

"It's the right thing to do," Hermione answered, looking concerned by the question.

"But it's not the _Slytherin_ thing to do," Harry pointed out.

Hermione blinked at the back of Harry's head as she replied, "Slytherins aren't inherently evil, Harry. You know that."

"No, but they are selfish," Harry retorted, in a wise tone. "You can think whatever you want about him, but I don't buy it."

"Don't buy what?" Ron asked.

"That he's some kind of saint, spying for Dumbledore and risking so much for so little."

"So _little_?" Hermione scoffed, "You think that this entire _war _is such a small matter?"

"That's not what I mean," Harry snapped. "He's a Slytherin! They don't do _anything_ unless there's something in it for them! I don't care what you say about the guy, he's no bloody Hufflepuff! Don't you see that there has to be more to it than what he's told us? There has to be a motive, and it's not as simple as 'goodwill towards man'!"

"He might have a point there," Ron conceded. When Hermione shot him a look of disappointment, he amended, "Come on, Hermione. I get that he's helped you, maybe even shown you a better side of himself than me or Harry has ever seen... but do you really think that means that you know _everything_ about him?"

Hermione looked troubled by that, wanting to immediately answer, '_Yes! I know him better than anyone!' — _but feeling the smallest niggling of doubt at the back of her mind.

Harry finally turned to face her then, locking eyes with her as if to latch on to that small doubt to reinforce a needed common ground between them. Recognizing that need in him, she capitulated, if only for his benefit.

"No, I don't know everything," she admitted, watching the slight smile of appreciation from Harry, "but I do know _enough._ Enough to trust him."

"I'm not saying that I don't trust him," Harry said quietly, surprising the others, "but there is something he's not telling us. There has to be."

"If you say so," Hermione sighed, leaning back into the cushions. In her peripheral vision she could sense Ron staring at her. She looked over to find him regarding her with another strange expression. "What is it?" she asked him.

Ron looked away from her, twisting his lips as a small blush crept over his cheeks. Harry caught the look, but turned back to the fire, his attention absorbed again by the flames.

"Nothing," Ron muttered. "Just... I dunno. You're... different."

"Different how?" Hermione asked. She scrunched her brow as Ron's blush deepened.

"C'mon, 'Mione," Ron squirmed, "You must've noticed, yourself. You've changed."

Harry tensed slightly at the direction of the conversation happening behind him, but both parties were too concerned with each other to notice.

"You mean physically?" Hermione quietly pressed.

"Yeah. That, and in other ways." He mumbled.

"What other ways?"

Ron shrugged, then started fighting his right thumb with his left thumb. "I guess you seem more mature. More grown up."

"I am more grown up," Hermione agreed.

Ron nodded at that, as if Hermione had just confirmed something for him. She narrowed her eyes at him in confusion.

"Yeah," was all he said, "I can see that."

When it became obvious that he wasn't going to say anything else, Hermione said, "Oookay... glad I was able to clear that up for you."

"Yep."

With a smirk, Hermione was suddenly compelled to do something less-than-mature. Picking up a small cushion, she chucked it at Ron's head before suppressing a small bout of laughter. The cushion landed near Harry, who looked over his shoulder curiously.

"Ha, ha, very funny..." Ron started before surreptitiously grabbing a cushion from his side of the couch and then reaching over to smack her with it. She screeched and tried to duck, but it still whacked the top of her head, mussing her hair. Laughing, she lunged for it and turned back to Ron, who had already grabbed another cushion in anticipation. There was a brief standoff before Ron's eyes flashed sideways to Harry, and both took on a conspiratorial grin. Knowing what was coming, Harry took up the first cushion to shield himself from the immanent attack.

The tension from earlier dissolved into laughter as a full-scale pillow fight broke out among the three friends, who were finally staring to feel the special warmth of each others' company once again.

...

* * *

><p><em>AN: Consider this another warm-up, as some major developments are on the way that would take too long to include here._

*_The landscape painting in Severus' chambers is a replica of __Arnold Böcklin's __"Prometheus Scenery" (1885) — (not to be confused with "Prometheus" of 1883). I figured __Böcklin's dark tones would appeal to Severus, as would the symbolism of Prometheus._


	62. Chapter 62

_A/N: Thanks for the reviews, everyone! They're always a treat!_

_ This one was originally going to be longer, but I decided to put the second part in the next chapter, since there's plenty here already. Just as a heads-up: Chapter 63 will go back in time by about an hour. You'll see._

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><p>.<p>

Chapter 62

.

Severus kept to the shadows as he took in the sight of the three disheveled Gryffindors slumbering by the glowing fire, the large sheepskin rug covered in a heap of tired bodies and outstretched limbs. Scattered cushions were strewn haphazardly around them, some coming apart at the seams and leaving a mess of feathers for some lucky house elf to sweep up. Harry was closest to the fire, his back to the others as he seemed to reach for its warmth even in sleep. Ron was furthest from it, but appeared comfortable enough since he was snoring loudly into a cushion between his head and Hermione's. Meanwhile she was nestled cozily between the two, facing Harry as she slept with a contented expression, her hair mussed in an unusual fashion. Her shoes had been kicked off, and one of her bare feet was touching Ron's knee as he slept curled up behind her. Severus stared at the point of contact.

As Ron let out a particularly loud snore, Hermione stirred, frowning slightly and kicking at Ron's knee until he made a tired smacking sound and fell back into a light snore. Sighing lightly, her eyes opened in tiny slits as she settled back into her previous arrangement. She jerked when she noticed the dark figure standing off to the side, her eyes widening as she focused on Severus, blinking away the sleep. When she realized he must have been waiting for her _(probably uncertain whether he should wake her)_, she lifted a finger to her mouth, urging him to keep silent as she carefully collected herself off the floor. Picking up her shoes, she tip-toed away from her sleeping friends, smiling tiredly at Severus and suppressing a small yawn before taking his hand and leading him out of the common room.

He allowed her to lead him out past the sleeping portrait and down the hall toward the stairwell before he tugged lightly on her hand to stop her. She looked up at him curiously as he pulled her into an alcove.

"Where are we going?" He asked her in a strange tone.

"Back to your rooms," she replied in a near-whisper, "isn't that why you came up here? To bring me back?"

Severus looked at her in that strange way again as he slowly shook his head, answering, "I was only looking after you."

Tilting her head at that, Hermione gently asked, "Don't you want me to sleep in your room?"

Severus looked about to say something else before suppressing that thought and replying stiffly, "Perhaps it would be best if you stayed with your friends tonight."

"Why?"

Severus just stared at her in a way that she had no idea how to interpret, tired as she was.

"I... don't understand... have I done something wrong?"

He shook his head, carefully raising a hand to her face and skimming his knuckles against the downy skin of her cheek. "No," he quietly replied, "I simply think it would be best if you stayed up here. For tonight."

Emboldened by his touch, Hermione stepped closer to him and placed a hand against his chest as she whispered, "But I'd rather be _with you._"

Severus surprised her then by pulling her in for a deep kiss, and she dropped her shoes as she moved to return it. These hit the ground with a pointed clatter, prompting Severus to pull back suddenly and regard them in alarm. Hermione exhaled in a small sigh of unfulfilled passion as he bent down inexplicably to retrieve the pair of saddle shoes, bestowing a decidedly scornful look on the offending objects. She watched in bemusement as he set them on the ledge against the wall, considering them for a moment before drawing his wand and beginning a careful transfiguration, first elongating them until the rounded toes came to a small point, then adjusting the heels until each slimmed to an inch–high kitten heel. Refining the arches to accommodate the slight height increase, he pulled back to consider the pair with growing satisfaction, his next spell rendering them completely black. After adding in a permanent cushioning charm to ensure they'd be comfortable, he glanced to Hermione and found her regarding him curiously.

"If you didn't like the shoes, you could have just said something," she teased. "How did you learn to do that?"

Gesturing for her to sit on the stone ledge, Severus smirked as he picked up a shoe for her to try on. "Did you think that my robes just happened to fit so immaculately by coincidence?" He drawled as he slipped the first shoe onto her outstretched foot, admiring the fit.

"You mean to tell me that you transfigure them yourself?" She asked, smiling when he simply raised an eyebrow by way of response. "Impressive."

He couldn't quite suppress a pleased smirk at that, reaching for the second shoe. When both were in place, he rose up and offered her his hands as she did likewise, taking a step back to test the feel. "Perfect," she breathed, "as if I've worn them forever. Thank you," she smiled, stepping toward him again and leaning onto her toes to give him a soft kiss on the cheek.

"How does the height feel?" he asked lowly, his face mere inches from hers.

"All the better to kiss you with," she replied quietly, enjoying the look on his face before she leaned up to kiss him on the lips, longer this time. As the kiss gently deepened, Severus let go of her hands to wrap his own around her waist, responding more fervently when she reached around to trail her fingers up the back of his neck and into his long hair. So distracted was she by the feel of his lips moving purposefully against hers that she hadn't noticed he was moving her backwards until she felt the cold stone pressed against her, his body pinning her to the pillar as his tongue pressed inside the warmth of her mouth. Letting his tongue have its way for the moment, she yielded to the insistent probing and the press of his body against hers, loving the sensual power of this man. She moaned as his fingers dug into her obliques when his hand gripped her waist, and the sweet sound prompted him to reach down with his other hand to find the hem of her skirt, wriggling underneath it until he could drag his fingers along the soft skin of her thighs, tickling and teasing her as she squirmed against him. He was quickly learning just how acutely sensitive she was, eager to exploit her heightened reactiveness to her erogenous zones. She made a small sound of protest as he tore his mouth away from hers only to return it to her outstretched neck, licking and sucking as she cried out in delight while his hand moved higher beneath her skirt, his fingers reconnoitering the edges of her knickers along her hip and buttock before spreading over the plump, mesh-covered flesh to feel the full weight of it in his greedy hand.

Suddenly his hand stilled as he felt a distinct discrepancy between the delicate mesh and something tougher beneath his thumb. His exploring digit carefully traced over the textural find as he breathed heavily against Hermione's rapidly beating pulse point. _What exactly was she wearing under there?_

Hermione smiled as she realized what he was feeling, her pulse quickening in anticipation. Severus pulled back just enough to look at her questioningly, and her enigmatic smile made his own pulse race that much faster. Eyes darkening, he suddenly reached up to grab her by the shoulders and pivot her around, causing her to gasp as she pressed her palms against the stone pillar for support, wavering from a moment's dizziness as he tossed her mussed hair over her shoulder and swooped down to suckle her neck again, his strong hands trailing slowly down her sides. As those hands passed over the flare of her hips, he tore away from her neck to drop down and reach for her skirt again, bunching the fabric up and lifting it to her waist as he sucked in a sharp breath at the sight waiting for him.

There was Hermione's voluptuous little bum, displayed erotically for him beneath the profanely sheer, clinging black mesh of her knickers. And, most salacious of all, in the center of this masterpiece—at the apex of her posterior—was the Slytherin crest, woven seamlessly into the delicate fabric. His cock twitched almost painfully to behold such a sight.

At the sound of his low, gutteral moan, Hermione pressed the side of her face against the pillar in front of her, seeking the stone's coolness to relieve the uncontrollable flush that spread over her. He was barely touching her, but the feel of his eyes on her semi-exposed backside while he held her skirt high up to her waist was nearly enough to undo her completely. She could hardly think straight with all the blood rushing to her nether regions, depriving her lust-addled brain as she struggled just to remain upright.

Severus leaned forward, resting his forehead against her lower back for a moment as his hands twisted the fabric of her skirt in tight fists, almost tormentedly. He turned his head against her, slack–jawed and eyes closed, before shifting lower to pillow his face against her plump buttocks. When Hermione let out a small sound of need above him, he dragged his lips against the mesh sensuously, his breath hot and moist against her as one hand let go of her skirt, feeling its way down to coil around her upper thigh.

Just as she felt that the slow torture was becoming unbearable, she heard him murmur against her, "_I can't._"

"What?" she breathed, her eyes opening to focus unsteadily on the stone pillar that she was practically fondling.

"I can't," he whispered. He let go of her skirt, carefully (reluctantly) smoothing it back into place.

"What do you mean?" she murmured, not comprehending, "Why not?"

"You need to return to your friends," Severus explained, his voice cracking as he rose to his feet. "At least for tonight."

"How come?" she asked, distraught, turning to face him. Her indignation immediately tempered when she saw the pain in his expression.

"Please, Hermione," he quietly insisted, eyes lowered the ground. "Don't ask."

Looking at him with concern, Hermione seemed to form a small degree of understanding, though it was laced with a dozen questions. To her credit, she managed to limit herself to just one.

"Will you tell me later?"

Severus' eyes rose to meet hers, and she was lost again in the complexity of his dark gaze. He nodded, and reached for her hand. She gave it readily, and he held it delicately in his larger one, his thumb lightly circling her palm while he stared as if it were hard to believe how willingly she allowed him to touch her.

"Will you be comfortable enough, sleeping in there?" He asked, still staring at her hand.

"I'll be all right," she sighed, still wishing he'd take her back to his bedroom, but suspecting that his attention was otherwise occupied this evening.

"Then I'll bid you goodnight. Is there anything you need before I leave you?"

Hermione looked troubled by his choice of words, and he amended, "For the night?"

She gave him a curious look before replying, "I can think of a few things, but I suppose they'll have to wait." She smiled wistfully at this last part before looking concerned about something, continuing, "But... um..." as she squirmed in place, Severus raised an eyebrow in question. "...for now, in lieu of a change of clothes, a freshening charm wouldn't be remiss..."

A look of understanding flashed across his features before Severus smirked somewhat abashedly and produced his wand, flicking it over her in a few swishes before discreetly aiming for her soaked knickers. Hermione's eyes widened momentarily before she let out a small giggle, admitting, "That tingles."

When Severus was compelled to kiss her again, she kept it chaste. At his small look of disappointment, she explained, "Better stop there, unless you want to keep re-freshening my knickers all night."

"I could think of worse ways to spend an evening," Severus quipped.

Smiling and shaking her head, Hermione let go of his hand and turned to walk back toward the portrait. He sighed as he watched her disappear into the shadows and adjusted his aching groin before turning reluctantly toward the east stairwell, steeling himself for the far less–pleasant business in store for him that night.

...

It was just as Phineas said it would be. Severus had only to approach the fated stairwell for it to open to him, beckoning him to enter. He hesitated for only a moment, wanting to take a little longer to compose himself but fearing that his delay might be interpreted as a weakness that he could not afford to show. Not to this man. Not even to a two-dimensional ghost of him.

The short climb up the spiral staircase felt more laborious than he recalled, even with the stairwell twisting up beneath him to quicken his arrival. _Was it just him, or did the stairway seem in an unusual hurry to deliver him to the office?_

Before he even had a chance to take a deep breath in preparation, he was already standing at the threshold. The stair creaked to a steady halt, and his equilibrium reeled for a beat from the sudden cessation of movement. The office was dimly lit — whether out of necessity or just to add to the creepiness of the whole scenario, he couldn't say — and the shadowed portraits hanging over him were all awake, as evinced from their slight shuffling at his arrival.

Stepping into the eerie space, Severus noticed that Fawkes' stand was still in place — a sad reminder of the office's previous inhabitant's departure from this world. _Well, not quite... _The sound of someone politely clearing their throat directed his gaze upward, to where the likeness of that same man was watching him with patient eyes. _Albus..._

"Hello, Severus," the old man greeted him, "I am relieved to see that you are well."

Severus immediately sought the hidden meaning in that statement while he nodded politely, then replied, "Albus. I am sorry that I cannot say the same of you."

"Me? Oh, never mind about me. I can assure you that I am right where I'm supposed to be, thanks to you." When he saw Severus cringe at that, he added, "Do not regret it, dear boy. Not on my account."

"Then you will at least permit me to regret it for my own sake," Severus quietly implored.

Dumbledore frowned slightly before responding, "If you would regret doing me a kindness, at my solemn request, then that is for your conscience to dictate."

Severus looked up at the painted man who was watching him with sympathy, and tried to suppress the resentment tightening deep within. There was no sense in rehashing any of this, now. What was done could never be undone.

"What do you want from me."

Dumbledore's brows rose at the question before he answered, "Just like that, Severus? Is there nothing else you wish to say to me?"

Severus looked wary, asking, "About what?"

"About anything... Anything at all? It has been some time since last we spoke... I would welcome a conversation with you."

"Fine. Ask me whatever it is you wish to know."

Dumbledore gave him a look of small disappointment that he'd seen so many times before, and which still irritated him as much as ever. "Oh, Severus. You haven't changed, of course. Not that I would expect you to, although... I have heard some rather startling rumors..."

_Here it comes. _Severus braced himself, asking, "About what, exactly."

"Oh, dear. Where to begin... well, shall we start with your defection?"

At Severus' questioning look, Albus clarified, "From Tom, I mean? I take it he is no longer under the impression that you are loyal to him?"

"That would be a reasonable conclusion," Severus drawled.

Shaking his head, Dumbledore studied the younger man over the rim of his half-moon glasses before continuing, "And you do not recognize the problem this poses?"

"The problem for whom? For me? Or for you?"

"For all of us, I should think!"

"What's done is done." Severus grumbled.

"Yes, of course. But have you no explanation as to _why _it was done?"

"I hadn't realized that an explanation was owed," Severus petulantly countered.

"Oh, Severus. Don't be so damnably obtuse. It doesn't suit you at all."

"Is it an apology you want? Is that what this is about?"

"You know as well as I how useless an apology would be at this juncture. I am but a humble portrait of a dead man, after all. What good is an apology to me?"

"Then what? What _else_ do you want?" Severus asked, unable to keep the desperation out of his voice.

"Rectification."

_Ah, there it was. Now they were finally getting somewhere. _

"_Rectification_," Severus repeated, slowly. "And what would you have me do to _rectify_ this situation."

"Quite a bit, I'm afraid," Dumbledore admitted. "There is no easy solution to such a convoluted problem."

"Specifics, Dumbledore," Severus ground out impatiently.

"To start, you will need to help Harry destroy Salazar Slytherin's locket."

"Obviously."

Dumbledore tisked impatiently before adding, "And is the means of that destruction just as obvious to you?" When Severus just looked annoyed, Dumbledore continued, "I will have the elves give you the Sword of Gryffindor, which will see the job done provided that it is wielded by one who is worthy of it. Harry, therefore, must earn the sword through an act of bravery. I will leave you to work out the specifics, just see that he gets it."

"Fine."

"Good. Then you can help him find another horcrux, which the elves seem to suspect might be hidden in the Room of Requirement. I've had them search for it, but you know how easily distracted they are when faced with so much clutter. Eventually I was forced to order them out of there, lest they waste away trying to tidy up the place for the rest of their days. I'm sure Harry will be able to sense its darkness once he manages to get close enough."

"Then he will hardly require any help from me," Severus pointed out.

"But you will still tell him where to look," Dumbledore reminded.

"As you wish."

"There is more, Severus," Dumbledore warned.

"Of course there is."

Frowning again, Dumbledore took on a solemn tone as he continued, "After he has destroyed both horcruxes, there will be no reason for him or his friends to remain at Hogwarts. They _must_ continue their mission, and it must be together."

Severus looked troubled as he asked, "All of them?"

"Yes, Severus." Dumbledore instructed. "Remember the prophecy."

"Then I will accompany them—" Severus started, before Dumbledore cut him off.

"No, you will not. That is not the role destiny has appointed for you."

"_Destiny_, Dumbledore? You presume to know my destiny?" Severus protested.

"Yours, perhaps not. But I can speculate on theirs, and it requires that they stick together — the _three _of them, as prophesied — without your interference."

"There is a considerable difference between 'interfering' and 'helping'! I can _help_ them!" Severus insisted, not realizing that he had begun to shout.

"You can! But not like that!" Dumbledore shouted back.

"How, then?" Severus demanded.

"You can help them by resuming your rightful place in this war, which is _not _by tagging along with three teenaged Gryffindors! They _must_ accomplish this on their own, Severus. That is the _only_ way they'll be able to sway this war in our favor."

"What is my 'rightful place,' then?" Severus snapped, "Where else would I belong, now?"

"Someone needs to rally the troops in preparation for the final battle," Dumbledore explained. "It will have to be fought somewhere. You know what is coming; you are the only one left alive who knows the truth about Harry. I take it that secret is still safe with you?"

"I have not told him anything," Severus ground out.

"Good. Knowing too soon could jeopardize everything. When the time comes, you will need to do as we discussed."

"But how will we even know the time, now?" Severus objected, "If I go back to Tom, he'll kill me on the spot — how am I to know when he starts keeping Nagini under his constant protection?"

"Ah, yes. I have given that particular problem some thought, and have come up with a solution: so long as we know that Harry has destroyed all other horcruxes, we'll know that it will be safe to tell him. Therefore we will need a way of relaying such information back to us; I have asked Phineas to help with that."

"Phineas?" Severus asked, not comprehending the logic behind the idea, "He is a portrait."

"Yes, with a double back at Grimmauld Place. If you can retrieve that second portrait, you can give it to Harry to take on their journey, explaining the necessity in relaying status updates on the horcrux hunt."

Severus turned to look at Phineas' portrait, wanting to verify that Phineas was actually willing to cooperate in this manner, but was surprised to find the frame vacant. _He must still be afraid of me after our last conversation..._

"Are you certain that Phineas will be reliable?" Severus asked, knowing the old Slytherin's penchant for contrariety.

"He knows what is at stake, and he will do what is necessary." Dumbledore assured him.

"Then you would have me remain here? At Hogwarts?" Severus asked flatly, clearly less than thrilled at the prospect.

"Yes."

It took a moment for the weight of that plan to sink in, as if Dumbledore had just asked him to swallow a cobblestone.

"In what capacity?" Severus asked skeptically, cringing in anticipation of whatever answer he'd receive.

"As I mentioned, someone needs to organize things on the battlefront."

"You want the final battle to be fought _here_?" Severus asked in dismay.

"Where else? We would have the advantage of 'home turf,' as it were — not to mention the added security measures that can be utilized in such a scenario. All that we need are some mobilized troops... do you remember 'Dumbledore's Army'?"

"How could I forget."

"It's a start, at least. If we can somehow manage to get the students back to the castle — along with anyone else willing to help — we might have a fighting chance."

"Students, Dumbledore? You would have students battle the Dark Lord and all of his Death Eaters?" Severus challenged, obviously disturbed by the idea.

"It is hardly an ideal situation, I know, but what other option do we have? You know that we've been training them for this — you know that those Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons were more than extracurricular! There aren't nearly enough Order members to take on so many, and we'll need the added numbers in order to allow Harry a decent shot at Nagini. I'm afraid it is the only way."

"Let us be perfectly clear, then," Severus drawled, preparing his most stinging sarcasm for his summary: "First you want to send _Phineas_ along with Potter and his friends, who are to hunt down the remaining horcruxes _alone. _Meanwhile, I am to remain here — as some sort of perverse parody of a Headmaster — where I am to somehow mobilize a motley group of _students_ in preparation for the final battle, to be fought on school grounds. Then, when—or dare I say _if—_Potter and his friends return unharmed, I will tell him that part of the Dark Lord's soul has been inside him since his infancy, and that he must _die_ in order for Tom to be defeated. But not before he destroys Tom's beloved pet snake. Finally, after whoever is left standing manages to defeat the Dark Lord once and for all—if there's even anyone left at that point—we can all go back to whatever is left of our lives, remembering that we have _you _to thank for it. Is that the plan, old man?"

Dumbledore stared at Severus reproachfully for a long beat before replying, lowly, "I must say that's a very pessimistic attitude, even from you."

Severus barked out a harsh laugh at that.

"If you have a better idea, I would be willing to hear it," Dumbledore offered coldly.

"Maybe I do," Severus mumbled, so low that Dumbledore barely heard him.

"Oh?"

"Maybe I should simply leave this place, while I still can. Maybe I should just leave the rest of you to it. Maybe there's a better life for me away from all of this." Severus muttered, sounding uncommonly morose even to his own ears.

"Is that what she would want?" Dumbledore quietly asked.

"Who, Hermione?" Severus replied, startling himself when he realized he'd said it aloud. _Fuck._

Dumbledore's face darkened then as he replied, lowly, "_I meant Lily._"

_Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!_

Severus' face twisted into a variety of expressions before he finally settled on obstinance. "I do not wish to speak of her."

"Who?" Dumbledore asked, somewhat mockingly, "Lily? Or Hermione Granger?"

Realizing he had been caught out, Severus simply replied, "Neither."

"Well, I can imagine why the subject might be distasteful to you, on either account," Dumbledore patronized. "So we'll leave Lily out of it — though I would hope that your promise to protect her son still stands, even if your heart has relinquished her hold on it for that of another..."

"_Careful, Albus..." _Severus warned, his entire demeanor darkening as his magic swelled dangerously around him.

"All right, all right... we won't go there. But tell me: in this alternate world you imagine — where all duty might be cast aside at the drop of the hat, to live out the rest of your days in relative peace — are you alone, or do you take a certain youthful companion along with you?"

When Severus just stared at Dumbledore's portrait with a cold expression, he continued, "Because as selfish as the first scenario would be, I hope I need not stress how utterly irresponsible and _reckless_ the second scenario is, even if only as a wistful fantasy... or a vague threat."

Lowering his voice even further, Dumbledore continued, "Miss Granger belongs at Harry's side, at least until the last battle is over. You _must_ understand this. If you should wish to pursue something with her afterward, I leave that with the two of you. I'll even give you my blessing; Merlin knows how much you deserve a bit of happiness in this life! But until then, you must not interfere with what _must be._"

A long pause followed in which both wizards stared each other down while the other portraits shifted uncomfortably, some whispering unintelligibly to each other. Dumbledore's expression was at first quite strict, but began softening marginally as he waited for Severus to reply, finally taking on a look akin to sympathy. _Did he even realize how much that look irritated Severus?_

With a long huff through his nostrils, Severus ground his teeth for another moment before finally muttering, "_Very well._"

Dumbledore looked a bit skeptical, but smiled graciously nonetheless. "Thank you, Severus."

"Am I excused?" Severus asked rudely, gratified by the look of frustration that passed over the old man's face before he sighed deeply.

"There is one more thing."

Severus was barely able to control the compulsion to roll his eyes.

"When you took off after Miss Granger against my orders, after I was killed, you set in motion a series of events that I'd hoped to forestall."

Curious, and somewhat guilt-ridden, Severus gave Dumbledore his full attention.

"I'm sure you heard that acting Minister of Magic Rufus Scrimgeour was assassinated shortly after your departure. Now, now—don't look at me like that—I don't blame you for what happened to poor old Rufus, it was as inevitable as everything else! But it did happen sooner than I'd anticipated. You see Severus, Scrimgeour should have been entrusted with my Last Will and Testament, to act as Administrator over its contents."

"You left a will?" Severus asked with a puzzled expression.

"Is that really so surprising?" Dumbledore countered, "A wizard of my age, knowing I was about to die? Of course there was a will, Severus. You won't be surprised to learn that nearly everything was left to Hogwarts." (He ignored Severus' snort at that). "Everything, that is, but the notable exception of three particular items. Well, four if you count the sword, but don't worry about that: I knew the Ministry would never actually give it to Harry, so I left a fake for them to confiscate. By now I imagine it must be in Lord Voldemort's possession; he probably hasn't even discovered how worthless it is!"

Severus furrowed his brow as the old man chuckled at his own little joke before continuing, "Like I said, the elves will bring you the real sword. Meanwhile, there are three items left unaccounted for. These were meant to be bequeathed to Harry, Ronald, and Hermione, respectively."

Quirking an eyebrow at that, Severus asked, "What are they?"

"Never you mind. They will discover the value of what I bequeathed to each of them _for themselves_, as I intended."

Thoroughly irritated, Severus asked, "Then _where _are they?"

"Well, they were originally seized by the Ministry from my personal vault—as I intended—but after that stunt you pulled after my death, I was forced to take quick action to prevent those particular items from falling into the hands of Lord Voldemort. Fortunately, I have a very dexterous elf in my employ who managed to switch out those items for three worthless trinkets before the Ministry officials departed the grounds. You'll find the real bequests, along with a copy of my will, in the hidden drawer underneath my desk. Four short taps of your wand on the underside will reveal it to you."

Slowly moving to the desk, Severus did as instructed, trying not to look as foolish as he felt when he reached underneath to tap out the ludicrously simple secret code. When the drawer appeared, he withdrew a small bundle, unrolling it to find a scroll alongside Albus' old Deluminator, a snitch, and a book of children's tales. He looked up at Albus' portrait as if he'd just been made the butt of a particularly unfunny joke.

"As I said, those bequests are not for you to worry about," Albus reminded him, "just see that they get to their intended recipients. It's all there in the will."

Sighing, Severus stood up from the desk and tiredly asked, "Is that all?"

"There is, in fact, just one more thing."

Severus closed his eyes, almost wanting to cry from the sheer frustration of it all.

"There may come a time when Lord Voldemort will have recourse to make an appearance on school grounds, looking to desecrate my tomb."

Severus looked pointedly disturbed by the idea as Dumbledore continued, "If this happens, you must not interfere. Let him do as he will, and do not make your presence here known to him. It shouldn't take but a brief moment, but the magic unleashed by the breaking of the seal around my tomb will be of significant force. I only wanted to warn you to expect it."

"Surely you don't mean... that he would..." Severus started, the thought almost too reprehensible to voice, "...make an... _inferius_... of your corpse..."

"Oh no," Dumbledore whispered, "nothing like that. No, nothing at all like that. I assure you, you needn't be concerned with his intention. Just keep out of sight, stay hidden! That's all you need to do."

Though Severus would have argued over being kept in the dark about so much under any other circumstances, he was so thoroughly exhausted from everything that had happened during this meeting and from everything prior to it that now, he could only nod heavily.

"Very well, Albus. Now, if there isn't anything else of absolute urgency, might I _please_ be excused for the night?"

"Of course," Dumbledore nodded agreeably, "Now I've said my piece. Good night, Severus."

With a stiff nod and a sneer on his tired face, Severus swept out of the office, feeling the many painted eyes watching his exit as he hurried down the stairs, eager to get out of the oppressive atmosphere. Though he had taken away plenty to think about, for the moment all he wanted was to feel the sweet release of sleep; to forget about everything that had transpired, if only for a few precious hours. In the morning he would have to revisit all of it and deal with it as best as he could. But until then, he would think only of sleep, and of Hermione—perchance to dream of her beside him—and let all other thoughts fall by the wayside.

...

By the time he'd reached the side route to the dungeon via the faculty hallway, Severus was already half asleep on his feet, merely going through the familiar motions of putting one foot in front of the other; _a right turn here, then a left up there_...

The sconces ahead of him flared to life as he approached his chamber door, illuminating some object on the ground outside of it. As he stepped closer, he could see that the object was moving... standing up... _Hermione?_

_What was she doing outside his rooms? Hadn't she agreed to sleep in Gryffindor Tower tonight?_

He was close enough now to notice her strange posture. Something was wrong. Her face was tear-stricken and splotchy. _What happened to her?!_

"Hermione?" Severus asked in concern, moving faster toward her, then slowing to a tentative halt when she shook her head and stepped backwards, away from him. "What is it? What happened?"

Hermione looked up at Severus with eyes brimming with tears, her mouth opening as if to speak, only to close again as she swallowed down her uncertainty and tried to steady herself enough to summon a very broken voice and ask, "_What is Harry's mum to you?_"

...

* * *

><p><em>AN: The closest match to the transfigured shoes I envisioned are the Bass "Glenbrook" oxford. Google 'em! (just imagine these entirely in black with a slighter heel and a fractionally more pointed toe). _


	63. Chapter 63

.

Chapter 63

.

_(About an hour ago)_

_._

As Hermione made her way back toward Gryffindor Tower, she wondered what could have had Severus so preoccupied that evening. _Why couldn't he have just told her about it? What was he afraid of? _She knew that whatever it was had something to do with Phineas' surprise visit that evening, and couldn't stop wondering whether Dumbledore's portrait had something to do with that.

Though neither Ron nor Harry had mentioned anything about speaking to Dumbledore's portrait, she was well–versed in the tradition of hanging former headmasters' portraits in the Head office, as expounded on in _Hogwarts: A History. _It stood to reason that Dumbledore's portrait would be hanging there, now, and—knowing Dumbledore—he wouldn't have left behind a shabby rendering of himself... According to the text, the portraits of former headmasters were imbued with the personalities and knowledge of their subjects inasmuch as they were _trained_ by their subjects, which meant that either Dumbledore had taken the time to see that his portrait was an adequate representation of himself, or else he had left behind a dummy incapable of much more than reiterating some choice catchphrases. Considering that the Headmaster in question was none other than Albus Dumbledore—undoubtedly one of the greatest wizards of all time—she would hedge her bet on the former.

_But why wouldn't Harry be in communication with Dumbledore's portrait, if he were active? Why would Phineas be arranging secret meetings with Severus behind Harry's back, if indeed that was the case? _Hermione supposed that it was pointless to speculate along such lines before confirming that Dumbledore really was the subject of Severus' concerns, _but what else could it be?_

Pausing outside the portrait of the Fat Lady to consider the question, she was just about to slip past the frame of the sleeping portrait before she heard a slight hissing sound coming from a little further down the hall.

"_Pssst! Girl!_" A voice hissed, causing her to look about in alarm.

"_Yes, you! Come over here!" _

Recognizing the whispered voice as Phineas,' Hermione scrunched her brow as she crept down the hall, scanning the sleeping portraits. She finally found her prowler in a frame set aside from the rest, in a particularly dim corner. She had to squint at him as her eyes adjusted to the darkness.

"_Professor Black," _she whispered, "_what are you doing here?_"

"What am _I _doing?" The portrait scoffed, "Perhaps the more appropriate question, young lady, would be what are _you _doing?"

"Me?" Hermione blinked in confusion, "I'm trying to go to bed..."

Phineas huffed indignantly at that, saying, "Well _that much_ is shockingly apparent!" At Hermione's look of further confusion, he added, "It is with _whom_ you are intent on bedding that drives me to seek an audience with you."

Narrowing her eyes, Hermione flatly replied, "You're here about Severus?"

"Good," Phineas drawled, "you _can _infer simple conclusions. Let us try for another, shall we? However, this next one won't be quite so simple."

"I'm too tired to play games with a portrait," Hermione snapped, flustered by his rudeness. "Just get to the point, if you could."

"Well, well..." Phineas tisked, "that is no way of addressing someone attempting to be of service to you, _young lady,_" Phineas warned, something in the way he referred to her making her decidedly uncomfortable. "I suggest you rethink that tone."

"Excuse me, _sir,_" Hermione replied, injecting as much venom into the honorific as he had put into hers, "but I can't imagine how you intend to be _of service_ to me, if that is your intention at all."

"Well! I am hardly interested in the scope of your imagination!" Phineas rebuked, "Now then, do you want to hear what I have to say, or not?"

"I'm not sure that I do, but you have my attention anyway."

"_Insufferable little..._" Phineas started, before he bit back his reproach and looked Hermione dead in the eye. "All right, then, _Missy_, you give me no choice but to spell it out for you bluntly. Professor Snape is _not_ the fool that you take him for."

Hermione blinked in surprise at that statement, her mouth opening to object before Phineas continued, "Oh, I know well enough how you've managed to ensnare him with your feminine wiles. You think that you have him wrapped around your little finger, do you not? You think you can trap him so easily?"

"_Listen, you—_" Hermione started, turning red with anger, before Phineas cut her off.

"No, _you listen_, girl! You are doing more harm than you realize! Severus Snape is _not a well-adjusted man!" _Hermione paused at that. "He is not of sound mind where young women are concerned, but neither is he a fool! You may have managed to lure him into an indecent arrangement for now, but it won't be long until he realizes his error, and once he does, what then? What will you do when he figures out just what you are to him; when he discovers his great self-deception, and casts you out?"

Phineas allowed his words to sink in as Hermione's indignation seemed to falter for a moment, before he continued in a less emphatic tone.

"Though it would not ordinarily behoove _me_ to worry about the fate of such a misguided little Jezebel, there is still the matter of _this war_ to consider; specifically the role that everyone is so certain you must perform in order to ensure a just outcome. I wonder, then, how well you would take to such a role when you find yourself spurned and brushed aside as if you were no better than mud clinging to a boot? Ah, there it is! It hurts, does it not? The very thought of it? Best to prepare for the reality, then!"

"He wouldn't..." Hermione started, struggling to come up with the right words, "...you're wrong. It isn't... he isn't like that!"

"Isn't he?" Phineas retorted, "And just how well do you know him, girl? Just how well do you think one such as _you_ can know the mind of one of the greatest Slytherins to come out of Hogwarts in the last several centuries? How can you truly know of a past fraught with such unspeakable tragedies, when you hadn't even _been born_ before they transpired? There is so much you don't know... _so much!"_

"I know that what we feel for each other is real," Hermione nearly whispered, resenting that she was admitting it to this portrait.

"Real?" Phineas scoffed, "You think you know what is real? That is no _besotted schoolboy_ you've gotten entangled with, you know," Phineas insisted, pointing toward the dungeon. "That is a man who has spent the greater part of his life as a _double spy_. Nothing is 'real' to a man such as that; nothing but undying duty to his cause. And once he realizes just how seriously you are jeopardizing that cause, he _will _do what he must."

"No," Hermione insisted, "you're wrong."

"I am afraid not." Phineas countered. "You see, I know a bit more about it than you, girl. I know a bit more about _him._"

"Like what?" Hermione asked, warily.

"I know that Severus is using you as a substitute for the only woman he ever loved," Phineas bluntly replied. His words seemed to hit their mark as Hermione gaped at him in disbelief. "What, you think _you _were the first? A man who has lived through as much as him? Oh, no. This is not the first time Severus has allowed himself to be led astray by a pretty face. Only this time, he won't be making the same mistake. Not when he remembers how much she cost him; not when he _still _fights in her name. He will _never_ forget that."

"Forget what?" Hermione asked, desperate for the truth, "Whose name? Who is she?"

"She _was_ someone whose tainted blood cost him more than he bargained for. Oh, yes," he pressed, seeing Hermione's look of surprise, "she was like you. Another _mudblood._"

Hermione was too shocked by the revelation that Severus had once loved another muggle-born to take offense to Phineas' use of the derogative term. She had gone quite pale in the reflected moonlight.

"I don't believe you," Hermione whispered, though her quiet words lacked conviction. "You're just saying all of this to upset me. You want me to doubt him."

"Come now, child," Phineas patronized, "do you really think I would contrive such a story merely for the benefit of upsetting you? I will grant that the life of a portrait can be dull at times, but we cope with it well enough. I can assure you that I would much rather be sleeping in my own frame right now, instead of colluding in a dark hallway with the _concupiscent little mudblood_ whose misplaced designs on a weak-willed, self-deceiving and thoroughly _damaged _Professor of hers could be the very straw that breaks the camel's back in this already precarious war! But _someone_ has to fly the flag of better judgement around here, and it so happens that this burden falls to me."

"If you're not making all of this up, then who is she?" Hermione demanded, "Does this woman even have a name?"

"Oh, she does, indeed," Phineas nodded, looking far too devious for Hermione's comfort. "But I should warn you that this is the _gravest_ of secrets. If I tell you, you must have the sense not to go off and tell Potter what I have said here, else you would put much more at risk than anyone's _feelings..._"

"What does any of this have to do with Harry?" Hermione asked, thoroughly perplexed.

"A great deal," Phineas confided, lowering his voice until Hermione had to strain to hear him, "_she was his mother._"

...

Hermione stumbled down the staircase as she rushed toward the dungeon, her tears blurring her vision in the paltry light and making her bump clumsily against one thing after another, likely forming bruise after bruise, though she was too upset to notice. She hardly knew how to feel about what Phineas had told her—hardly knew what to make of it all—but she knew that she was intensely unhappy. She was much too tired to try to make any sense of it, so she simply allowed her fears and insecurities to consume her as she gracelessly made her way down to the dungeon. She had no idea what she would do when she arrived — what she would say to him — she just knew that she had to confront him, lest she be left to draw her own conclusions. And she didn't like where that would leave her.

_Oh, God — could it be true? Could Severus really have been in love with Harry's mum? Was he, still? Was this why he was fighting against Voldemort? To avenge her death?_

She shook the thought away as another full-bodied sob wracked her tired frame, causing her to collapse against a balustrade for support. She clung to it weakly, pressing her heated face against the cool stone and leaving tear stains before pulling herself up and continuing on. She felt sick, nervous and exhausted, with a tight pressure in her chest as if her heart were being strangled. _She needed to find Severus; she needed him to make it right..._

...

* * *

><p>"<em>What is Harry's mum to you?"<em>

Severus gaped at Hermione, his brain short-circuiting as he tiredly struggled to make the jump from 'Hermione is outside my door' to 'Hermione knows about Lily.' The sheer force of that second concept soon had the blood draining from his face, and his body feeling like it had just absorbed the impact of a minor _crucio_. It took all of his willpower not to fall over.

"Who...?" Was the only word he managed to utter in between the opening and closing of a mouth uncharacteristically at a loss for words.

"Phineas," came Hermione's small reply. She looked so sad... _was that pity in her eyes? For him... or for herself?_

"Of course." _Oh, when he found that black-hearted, two-dimensional little..._

"...Severus?" Hermione asked after a long beat. He looked at her in confusion. "Is that all you have to say to me?"

Though her tone was more gentle than anything else, Severus still felt irrationally annoyed by the question. Without thinking, he bitterly replied, "It would seem you've heard it all already from Phineas."

"Not all," she countered, shaking her head in distress, "he wouldn't go into specifics."

"How _specific_ would you like me to be?" he snapped, alerting her to the fact that this was a very sore subject indeed. "Shall I tell you about the manner in which she died? About how I arrived too late, and found her dead by the Dark Lord's hand? _Shall I tell you how I held her broken body in my arms and wept?_" he asked, his voice breaking from the old devastation still attached to his recollection of that night.

"So it's true?" Hermione whispered, her eyes brimming over in tears, "You loved her?"

Severus surprised her then by scowling dreadfully and pulling on the sconce outside his hidden door, pushing past her when it opened for him. She gasped as he brushed by her as if she were a nuisance, leaving her in tears outside his chamber while he strode over to a cabinet and produced a half-empty bottle of firewhiskey, tearing it open and taking an indecently long swig of the amber liquid, then slamming the bottle down on a table and leaning against it with hunched shoulders, breathing heavily. She had barely managed to summon the courage to step inside the unwelcoming space when Severus suddenly spun around to face her with a look she hadn't seen from him in ages (and never before directed at her).

"What _exactly_ did that meddling old dolt tell you?" He demanded, the lines of his face contorting harshly from his barely-contained rage.

"He... he said that you loved her, and... and that she cost you a great deal..."

Severus just stared at her with an unreadable expression before reaching behind him for the bottle and taking another swig, his eyes fixed on Hermione the entire time. She watched as the alcohol slowly started seeping into his bloodstream, his demeanor shifting almost imperceptibly, but enough for her to notice the chill emanating from him, sucking the already negligible warmth out of the space. She shivered, and his eyes flicked over her before he took another swig, then lowered his arm so that the bottle hung loosely at his side while he leaned a bit too casually against the table. A peculiar brand of menace was overtaking him now—one that she didn't recognize at all.

"Well?" She asked, affecting a courage she didn't actually possess, "That's pretty much all he told me, other than trying to warn me off of you, ostensibly for my own good. I didn't believe him, though," she added, noticing his scowl at that last part, "I _don't _believe him; not about that."

"Why not?" Severus drawled, giving her an appraising look before sucking down another swig of firewhiskey, "Maybe he had a point."

Hermione's hurt expression was nearly enough to make him take it back... _nearly. _

"What are you saying?" she asked, at a loss, "You think I should stay away from you? Because..." she whispered, "...because _you're still in love with her?_"

Severus startled her by throwing the bottle against the wall, then, shattering it as he stood up and shouted, "_I DON'T WANT TO TALK ABOUT LILY POTTER!"_

"Why not?" Hermione cried, stepping backwards as she spoke, "Does she still mean so much to you?"

Severus stalked toward her too quickly for her to do anything but gasp as he backed her against the wall, the smell of firewhiskey thick on his breath as he spat, "_If you're that threatened by the idea of a dead woman, then perhaps you should scurry back to your little friends and let them tell you whatever soothing nonsense you want to hear, because you certainly won't be hearing any of it from me."_

"I don't want to hear nonsense," Hermione replied, trying to make her voice come out as deep as she could, "I only want to hear the truth."

"_The truth?" _Severus sneered, "_And what do you want with the 'truth,' Hermione? Do you even know how ugly a thing 'the truth' can be?"_

"I think so," she replied in a hard voice, eliciting a harsh laugh from the man hovering over her.

"I don't doubt you've seen your share of hard truths," Severus conceded, "but you know nothing of my own. You know nothing of what I once was... what I still am."

"Then tell me," she said simply. He looked her over skeptically—consideringly—before pushing away from her and pacing back toward the center of the room.

"Tell me, Severus," she insisted, pushing off the wall to stand up straight. "I want to hear it."

"No," he said quietly, not facing her, "you don't."

"...Please."

He turned to look at her with another indecipherable expression before looking away again, taking his time before replying. She waited patiently. At length he spoke to the floor, "I am not a loving man, Hermione."

When he didn't say anything else, she quietly replied, "I don't believe that's true." His shoulders seemed to slump further before he continued in a strained voice.

"If I love at all, it is a _greedy_, selfish thing. It is obsessive, and _weak_, and demanding in ways you don't yet realize. My love for Lily was all that and worse, and she died because of it."

Hermione shook her head at that, saying, "No, Severus — she died because Voldemort killed her... she died protecting Harry..." He turned around at that.

"Yes, and because _I _was the one who relayed the damned prophecy to him in the first place! _I did it, _Hermione!_ Me! _— I didn't realize it meant that Lily's son must die, but that's how it happened!" He confessed, desperate with remorse, "And then she died, and all that was left was _my guilt_ and _her son — _hers and _James_ bloody _Potter's — _and there was nothing I could do to bring her back! Nothing!"

"So you turned to Dumbledore for help?" Hermione guessed, tentatively stepping closer to Severus, wanting to comfort him in his obvious torment but still fearing his erratic behavior.

"Help," Severus coldly laughed, "I tried that as soon as I realized my mistake. Dumbledore was supposed to protect her! But he — I failed her," he corrected. "It was my fault. All of it."

"Then Dumbledore took you in afterward by way of apology?" Hermione asked.

"Apology?" Severus scoffed, "From him? No. He only offered me a chance to make amends, however paltry. He offered the chance to ensure the child's safety."

"By spying for the Order."

Severus nodded, and Hermione stepped close enough to place a hand on his shoulder, making him flinch. "Severus, that's the _least_ selfish thing you could have done for her, don't you see that?"

He looked up from the floor then, searching Hermione's eyes for any sign of judgment, but—miraculously—finding only admiration, albeit tinged with sadness.

"You devoted _years_ of your life in service to her son — to the cause she lived for — and at great personal cost... Severus, how can you think that isn't the most loving thing any person could have done for another?"

Severus just blinked dumbly at her, swallowing thickly and looking away when he couldn't come up with a response. Hermione moved to stand in front of him and gently lifted his chin, forcing his eyes to meet hers.

"_Honestly, Severus_," she whispered, "what you did was nothing short of heroic, in the highest possible terms...I've never heard of _anything_ so selfless, so brave..."

His eyes grew intense for a moment as he stared into hers, still trying to find something that just wasn't there. She didn't judge him for what he'd done, even when he'd admitted it to her as plainly as he could... _What was wrong with her? Why didn't she condemn his actions for what they were? Why was she focusing solely on the outcome, rather than acknowledging the harm he'd caused? Didn't she realize? Didn't she understand?_

"You're too naive to see the truth," he drawled, his words slightly slurred in his tired semi-drunkenness. Hermione looked at him as if he'd said something very stupid.

"Severus, don't."

"Don't what," he challenged, "don't tell it like it is? You wanna pretend that this is all some pretty little fantasy that you can distort at whim? You'd rather make me some kind of twisted 'hero' than admit to yourself that you've been _fucking a monster_?"

"Severus!"

"What? What else would you call it, huh?" He pressed, gripping her by the shoulders, then moving to grab her arms when she tried to twist out of his grip.

"_You're hurting me_," she pleaded.

"_Good," _he sneered. "It _should_ hurt. It should hurt like hell!"

"Stop it!"

"What's the matter, _girl?_ Finally seeing what I really am? Is it _finally getting through to you?"_

"Let go of me! You're drunk!"

"I'll let you go Hermione... I'll let you go," he drawled, his discomfiting assurances at odds with his tight grip, "but when I do, you'd better run, do you understand? You'd better run away and not come back, because this is your chance. This is the only chance you'll get from me. I'm _a very. selfish. man_, Hermione, and I don't let go easily... do you get that, now? So when I give you the chance, you'd better take it. There won't be another."

"Severus," Hermione cried, still twisting in his grip as tears fell down her face, "I don't like you like this."

"Good," Severus sneered, "very good. Then you understand what you have to do. You understand that it has to be you; _I can't be the one_. You have to go, do you hear me? Go back to your friends. Don't let me find you down here again."

"Stop," she cried, "you don't mean it..."

Finally releasing his grip with a small push, Hermione steadied herself and rubbed at her sore arms as she stared at Severus with hurt eyes.

"_Go," _he insisted, his voice small but full of darkness, "_now."_

Realizing that he was in no fit state to argue with, Hermione gave him one last look of betrayal before wandering out of the room as if she were lost. He watched her go with a feeling of dread, then lifted his wand to shut the door after her, so as not to hear her subdued sobbing as she retreated back to whence she'd come.

His head spun as he looked about the room in tired confusion, as if the whole sorry affair had been a nightmare he'd just woken from. As he slowly set about removing his clothes for the night, the smell of spilt firewhiskey making his stomach roil, he couldn't help but wonder: ..._what have I done?_

...


	64. Chapter 64

_A/N: Hope nobody's too ticked off with the events of the last chapter — keep in mind that they were very, very tired! Moral of the story: don't try to argue with someone about something important when you're dead on your feet. Nobody wins. _

_Anyhow I wanted to get this one out ASAP to appease you all to some degree, but there was a long delay due to the fact that I'm currently attempting to wean myself off of caffeine (it wasn't going so well, and I usually write when I'm caffeinated). Feeling better now.  
><em>

* * *

><p>.<p>

Chapter 64

.

"Ronald, wake up."

"Unghhrrmn."

"Ron."

"Ummphhh."

"Ron, I need to you get up."

"Pffffff."

"Come on, Ron — I had the elves set up breakfast already... there's bacon..."

"Huh? Whaddya say, 'Mione?"

"Um... bacon?"

"I'm awake."

Hermione rolled her eyes and moved to hover over the other late sleeper, gently nudging his shoulder.

"Harry..."

"Hmm."

"It's time to get up."

"Says who."

"Harry, come on; there's something I need you to help me with."

Harry blinked as he sluggishly felt around for his spectacles, grunting in what amounted to a 'thank you' when Hermione found them for him and placed them against his searching hand.

"What's going on, Hermione?" Harry yawned, "What do you..."

Harry trailed off when he focused on the girl squatting beside him, noticing the bruises on her arms and legs. He sat up and looked at her intently.

"What happened?"

"What? Oh," she breathed, realizing what had him so concerned, "I just got a little banged up walking around in the dark. Don't worry about it."

Harry fixed Hermione with the same look she often gave him, when he was being difficult. "Hermione, tell me what happened. Your eyes are all puffy, I can tell you've been crying."

"What?" Ron exclaimed around a mouthful of toast. "Something happened to Hermione?"

"No, it was nothing," Hermione insisted, inhaling sharply as her still-raw emotions threatened to resurface at the mere mention of that night. "Just a stupid argument. That's not why I need your help."

"An argument with Snape." Harry concluded, his pique rising. "You argued with Snape, and now your eyes are all puffy and you're covered in bruises."

"It wasn't like that, Harry. I really did bruise myself bumping into stuff, it's not a big deal — so just leave it, okay?"

"Where is he?" Ron demanded, shoving the tray of food off of his lap, "I'm gonna clobber the bastard!"

"Ron, no!" Hermione cried, her tears breaking loose again despite her efforts to stave them off, "Please! You're not hearing me! I told you I need your help — I don't need you going off and making things worse than they already are!"

"Hey, hey..." Ron soothed, his outrage quickly tempered by the sight of Hermione crying in front of him. He gently placed his hands on her shoulders as she wiped at her face, trying to contain her emotions. "I'm sorry... I just want to help..."

"Well, you're not helping me by trying to start a fight," she shuddered.

"But if he hurt you..."

"He didn't. I already told you."

Sighing, Ron murmured, "Well, all right. I'll just leave it then... for now."

"What do you want us to help you with?" Harry asked, exchanging a concerned look with Ron as he stepped beside them.

Taking a steadying breath, Hermione squared her shoulders and looked at each of them in turn, her voice full of purpose as she said, "I need you to help me get to Diagon Alley."

"_What?!_" they replied in unison.

"Why would you want to go there?" Harry asked, as if she was out of her mind.

"I need to get into Ollivander's shop," she stressed, "I need a wand."

Her determined expression and the tone in her voice had both wizards wondering whether there was more to this urgency than the basic need every witch or wizard had for access to their magic; if it was something more than Death Eaters and Dementors that had her so riled up.

"Okay..." Harry nodded, "I understand. We'll help you. But..."

"What?" she asked when he looked troubled by something.

"...did you ask Ron to back down from Snape because you want to take him on, yourself? With magic?"

Ron's eyes widened at the thought. Hermione narrowed her eyes in a way that warned Harry against bringing the subject up any further.

"Just help me get that wand."

...

"This is a bad idea," Ron repeated for the umpteenth time as the threesome made their way toward the statue of Gunhilda. "This is a very bad idea."

"I don't understand why Kreacher couldn't just take us to Ollivander's," Harry complained. "He's never disobeyed me like that before."

"Yeah. Dobby would have done it," Ron remarked, then grimaced in apology when he saw Harry's face cloud at the mention of the recently deceased elf.

"Maybe it's because Kreacher's first allegiance is to someone else," Hermione suggested.

"Like who?" Harry replied, at a loss, "Dumbledore already confirmed that he wasn't taking orders from the Malfoys, since Draco's mum is from the Black family. And the inheritance didn't pass to Bellatrix, either; Kreacher was supposed to be mine."

"But then you sent him to Hogwarts?" Hermione asked.

"Well, yeah... he couldn't stay at Grimmauld Place; there was nobody left. Nobody but that damned portrait of Walburga Black... and I couldn't leave him alone with her, again. Not after the number she did on him during the ten years he lived alone with her."

"That would drive anyone insane," Ron agreed, shuddering at the thought.

"Yeah, and besides: after that business with the locket, which belonged to Regulus Black, Kreacher started acting differently... more loyal, I guess," Harry mused. "When he realized that I was on Regulus' side, his whole attitude toward me started to change."

"Then why wouldn't he want to help you get to Diagon Alley?" Hermione wondered.

"...Maybe he thinks it's too dangerous, and he's just trying to help?" Harry offered.

"He'd be right about that," Ron sighed. "This is a really _bad _idea."

"So you keep saying, but I don't hear you coming up with a better one," Harry challenged. "Hermione needs a wand — where else are we going to find one for her?"

"But you don't even know if Ollivander left anything behind!" Ron stressed. "Why would he? You saw the way his shop looked last time: completely untouched! When just about everything else had been ransacked, Ollivander's was spotless. If nobody bothered to break in, they must have known that he took everything with him when he disappeared."

"Wait, what?" Hermione asked, pausing in the hallway, "When did Ollivander disappear?"

"Last year," Harry answered. "Lots of people started taking off when things got bad, and Ollivander was one of the first to go. Some people thought that he might have joined up with the Death Eaters early on, to protect himself from the fallout."

"That doesn't sound like him," Hermione replied, considering.

"No, but you never can tell about people," Ron supplied, "especially these days."

The three continued on in contemplative silence until they reached the statue of the old witch.

"_Dissendium,_" Harry incanted, tapping it with his wand and opening the secret passage into Honeydukes. "Who's first?"

"You go ahead," Ron urged, "there might be spiders."

"Gee, thanks," Harry replied flatly, climbing into the chute.

The other two waited until he'd given them the all–clear before Ron followed, complaining, "I'm getting too big for this," as he squeezed through the opening in the witch's hunchback.

Hermione waited a moment, then climbed in after him. She slid down the short slide and bumped into Ron, who hadn't moved out of the way in time.

"Oi!"

"Sorry," she replied, "you should have moved!"

Ron made a show of rubbing his back while he flicked his wand up to close the passage behind them. Harry's _Lumos_ lit the way, and the three began the somewhat arduous trek through the long passage to Honeydukes.

"Are you sure Honeydukes even has a floo?" Hermione asked.

"Of course they have a floo," Ron replied, "what Wizarding place _doesn't _ have a floo? The better question is: will the connection even be _open_?"

"You think the Death Eaters might've blocked it?" Hermione worried.

"It's possible..."

"Well, then we'll just have to try another one," Harry muttered.

"Brilliant," Ron retorted, "we'll just stroll out into Hogsmead and poke around in the empty shops until we find a working floo connection! Because if the Death Eaters took the time to disconnect _one _of them, it makes perfect sense that they wouldn't do the same to _all _of them!"

"We could always try to Apparate there," Hermione suggested.

"_NO._" both boys replied in unison. Hermione looked between them questioningly.

"The Death Eaters have ways of detecting Apparations into certain places," Ron explained. "We've heard some pretty nasty reports about it. Besides, I wouldn't want to get splinched..."

"If you're going to Apparate anywhere, it has to be someplace off the grid," Harry added. "It's just too risky otherwise."

"What about flying on brooms?" Hermione asked, even knowing her own limitations where brooms were concerned.

"Through skies filled with Dementors? No thanks," Ron huffed.

"Oh, right... um... Portkeys?"

"Hah," Ron laughed, "who's going to make one? Harry?"

"Oi..."

"No offense, mate; I know _I _couldn't put a Portkey together if my life depended on it."

"I might be able to give it a go," Hermione mused, "if I had a wand, that is."

"Hmm. Wouldn't surprise me," Ron allowed. Hermione smiled at him, and he hoped she didn't notice him turning slightly pink.

Nearly an hour later, the trio arrived at the trap door into Honeydukes, opening it with ease and shuffling into the musty cellar. Harry took the lead, wand at the ready.

"All right," Harry whispered, "let's try to make this as quick as we can. If anything goes wrong, try to meet back here, in the tunnel."

"But we can't go back that way," Ron argued.

"I know, but at least we know it's safe — we'll figure out a way to get back into the castle if it comes to that."

"This is such a bad idea, Harry."

Harry just rolled his eyes and made his way up the cellar stairs, knowing his friends would follow him — bad idea or not. He didn't figure they had much of a choice; not if they were going to get Hermione that wand. And after everything she'd been through, Harry was more than eager to help her in whatever way he could. If it was a wand she wanted, he was going to see that she got it.

...

* * *

><p>Severus was still in bed when the alarm went off. Down in the dungeons, he wouldn't have heard it even if he had been awake, even though the piercing scream of the Caterwauling Charm was loud enough to be heard from the school. It wasn't the alarm, then, that had woken him, but the bone-deep, unsettling sensation stirred by hundreds of Dementors swarming together to descend on the town of Hogsmead. As they tore through the air above the castle, enveloping it in their ghastly pall, Severus woke with a shudder, alarmed at how cold the room had become. Something was not right at all.<p>

...

* * *

><p>"<em>EXPECTO PATRONUM!"<em>

The force of Harry's Patronus was just enough to hold back the dark tide of the Dementor swarm as it pressed down on the terrified threesome, allowing them a moment to appreciate just how truly _bad_ their situation had become. Was this it, then? Were they about to have their souls sucked out of them by Dementors, caught in a Death Eater trap that had been set on the unassuming town of Hogsmead? Neither of them had thought that this was the day they would die when they'd set out that morning, any yet here they were, face to face with the very real possibility that any moment now might well be their last. Ron looked at Harry's face, swallowing at the look of fierce concentration as Harry struggled to hold the spell, seeing that underneath that ferocity was the heart-stopping terror of a boy who knew that he was completely out of his depth. He turned to look at Hermione then, and the two exchanged a look of shared foreboding that made his gut twist. Neither of them wanted it to end this way, but what could they do about it, now?

As if in answer to his unvoiced prayer, a subdued shout was suddenly heard from a sunken stairwell next to the Hog's Head Inn. Ron's head swung around as he sought out the origin of the sound, and noticed an unkempt–looking man keeping to the shadows in the side entrance. He was gesturing to Ron urgently.

"_C'mon, then!" _then man barked, having secured Ron's attention, "_Hurry up! This way!"_

"Uh, Harry?!" Ron squeaked, reaching around to tug at his friend's arm. "There's a man there that wants us to follow him!"

"What?!" Harry shouted, his Patronus faltering slightly at the interruption.

"We have to go!" Hermione insisted, "We don't have a choice! Come on!"

Before Harry knew what was happening, Hermione was dragging him along with her as she fled toward the side entrance to the old tavern. The three were scrambling madly now as Harry's Patronus dropped, leaving them vulnerable to attack as the Dementors descended hungrily upon them. They'd only just managed to slip through the door before being devoured by the hoard, the wards on the building shielding them from further danger. As they clung to each other in the small space, eyes wide and faces ashen as they tried to catch their breath, their rescuer glanced out a filth-encrusted window, looking quite certain that their troubles were far from over.

"You three get yourselves out of sight quickly, you hear?" The man instructed in a harsh whisper, "There's a cellar through there — go hide behind the crates!"

"What? Why?" Harry gasped, still recovering from the exertion of his Patronus.

"Death Eaters, that's why!" The man hissed, "You can be sure they're coming to see who it was that set off their bloody Caterwauler!"

"What will you tell them?" Hermione asked in alarm.

"You just leave that to me—off with ye, now!" The man insisted, gesturing emphatically.

Hermione nudged her friends to comply, pulling at Harry's shirt as he lingered to get a better look at the strange man, a spark of recognition in his eyes. He quickly darted out of sight though, whispering as Ron shut and warded the cellar door behind them, "Hey, do you know who that was?"

"Who?" Ron whispered back.

"He did look sort of familiar," Hermione breathed, looking around for the best place to hide.

"Yeah," Harry exhaled in a short laugh, "He should..." he trailed off enigmatically, as he pondered the significance of this surprising turn.

"...I'm pretty sure that was _Dumbledore's brother!_"

...

* * *

><p>By the time Severus had realized that Hermione and her friends were no longer inside the castle, it was too late. The Dementors were way ahead of him. Panic had just begun to paralyze him when he detected another noise above the roar of his own blood pounding in his eardrums: someone had set off a Caterwauling charm. He was certain that it was coming from Hogsmead, and that could only mean one thing: Death Eaters were coming.<p>

_How could she be so daft? Didn't she realize what was at stake, risking everything like this? Why? Was she doing it to punish him? _

Severus' eyes turned wild as all the color drained from his face and his magic swelled up in a cold panic, his heart beating in his chest like a tiger trapped in a cage as the circus went up in flames. _Not this! No! Not this!_

What could he do? If he Apparated there, he'd certainly draw their attention as they'd detect his Apparation, perhaps distracting them long enough to ensure Hermione's escape... but would it be soon enough? How long until the Death Eaters honed in on his location? _Too long_, he feared. Their ambush wouldn't be automatic. They would likely capture the Gryffindors well before anyone set out to hunt him down. And what if the dunderheads had somehow managed to protect Hermione; to hold off the enemy? Though the likelihood of that was grim, in case they _were_ holding their own, Severus' Apparation into Hogsmead would only draw more attention to the location. Hopefully the fact that the Golden Trio themselves had set off the damned Caterwauler hadn't been relayed to Voldemort yet... If the Death Eaters were responding to a routine violation, there was a chance that they hadn't discovered just who they had ensnared. And even if they had been recognized, it was even more likely that whichever Death Eaters happened upon the trio would be more eager to secure the prisoners themselves rather than alert their comrades and risk anyone else claiming credit for the capture of Harry Potter. If Severus were to Apparate into town, his presence would be detected and reinforcements would be deployed after a brief delay. That would only cause more trouble.

There was nothing for it. He'd have to fly to the outskirts of the town and slip in unnoticed. There was no other way to help them. He knew that they'd probably be captured long before he got there. He knew that she was probably already lost to him forever. But with no other choice, he sent a burst of magic to smash through a nearby window and took the plunge, slicing his arm on a jagged piece of glass in his haste. The pain didn't even register as he lunged forward into the darkness of the early morning, straining himself as he flew through the cold air—a streak of black against the charcoal sky—drops of his blood sluicing from the gash in his arm and falling away to land on the boughs of trees and the patches of snow that blurred beneath him. As he approached the wailing town—it's loud din at odds with the darkened windows of homes housed by occupants hoping not to draw any attention to themselves—he knew the crushing weight of the fear that the woman he loved beyond all reason was, at that moment, being dragged away to a fate worse than death. Dragged away from any chance at happiness. Away from all hope. Away from him.

...

* * *

><p>It was just around dawn when the three Gryffindors finally heard the Caterwauling charm stop its incessant wailing. Their ears were still ringing as they strained to hear the muffled sound of voices outside, unable to make out what was being said. At one point they had heard someone shuffling around the place and feared that they would be discovered, but nobody had bothered to search the cellar. It seemed that their mysterious rescuer had managed to talk his way out of this mess somehow.<p>

After a long stretch of quiet, the wards Ron had hastily thrown up were dropped and the cellar door opened to reveal their rescuer, who was mercifully alone. The man tiredly made his way down to meet them, the light from the outside room illuminating the space just enough to make out the features of his face. He _did _ look remarkably similar to Dumbledore...

"You're Aberforth Dumbledore, aren't you?" Harry asked knowingly, shyly approaching the old wizard as if he were a long-estranged friend.

"I suppose I am," the man sighed before fixing Harry with an unexpectedly harsh expression. "And I certainly know who _you_ are," Aberforth grumbled, crossing his arms tightly in front of his chest as if to contain his frustration. Harry took a half-step back as Aberforth barked, "Just what are you playing at, showing up here? Eh? Didn't you realize how dangerous that was? Didn't that mad brother of mine teach you _anything_?"

"I..." Harry started, at a loss. Hermione took pity on him and stepped in.

"Um, it was my fault, sir... I asked him to take me here."

Aberforth looked at Hermione skeptically, asking, "You? This was your brilliant idea, then, missy? Aren't you supposed to be the clever one?"

Hermione gaped stupidly, surprised that this stranger knew anything about her.

"That's right, I know a thing or two about the whole lot of you; I'll bet my brother never bothered to mention that I was still around, eh? Never thought to include me in any of his mad schemes... Well, that's just fine by me! He never asked for my help, and I never volunteered it! But don't think that means I've been sitting around in total ignorance of all these blasted goings-on! I'm no fool, you know — I've kept my ear to the ground, and I know which way the wind is blowing!"

"With all due respect, sir," Harry offered, "we don't take you for a fool at all — that is, we hardly know anything about you, other than the fact that you're Professor Dumbledore's brother, and that you just saved our lives."

Aberforth was quiet for a moment as he looked to each of the bemused faces, fixing his gaze on Ron as he quietly asked, "So that's all you know about me, is it?"

"Um," Ron started, swallowing nervously, "yeah... and... something about a goat, I guess..."

Aberforth blinked at Ron before exhaling through his nose in what sounded like a laugh. Ron's eyes darted sideways to Harry as he smiled nervously, hoping that he'd inadvertently diminished the tension in the room, but fearing that he might have made matters worse.

"A goat, you say," Aberforth muttered. "So they're still talking about that, are they. Typical. I see my reputation is still as warped among this new generation as it was in the last. The more things change, eh?"

Ron looked to Harry for help, but Harry looked just as confused as his friend.

"Relax, Weasley," Aberforth sighed. "I know you're good people. Can't help what they say about me, can I? Folks will always talk."

"Uh, I guess," Ron shrugged.

"Um, excuse me, sir," Hermione asked, stepping forward, "but can I ask how you managed to turn the Death Eaters away?"

Aberforth turned to her with a somewhat smug expression and replied, "Well, they gave me a bit of a hard time about it, but eventually they bought my story. Told 'em that it was an accident."

"An accident?" Harry asked, skeptically.

"Yep. Told 'em that I was putting my cat out, and tripped the alarm. Told 'em that I was sorry for all the fuss, but the cat just wouldn't let me be. Wanted to go back to sleep, but he just kept yammering at me."

"And they believed you?" Ron scoffed. "What about the Dementors?"

"Well, they asked about that, of course. Thought they saw a stag Patronus, which they thought was damned suspicious. So I told 'em that when I seen the swarm of Dementors outside, I panicked and sent out my Patronus — which is actually a goat, not a stag. Similar enough. They didn't buy it at first, but they came around. After all, they know they've got a good thing going for 'em, with all them shady black market dealings they get up to around here. Bad for business, stirring up trouble. Best let sleeping dogs lie and move on. So they did."

"And it was as easy as that?" Hermione asked in disbelief.

"I told you I had some convincing to do, but I managed it, didn't I?" Aberforth insisted. "See any Death Eaters still lurkin' about? Saved your hides, I did. The whole lot of you. So now you'll all get far away from this place if you know what's good for you! Matter of fact, I think your best chance would be to escape into the mountain range, soon as the sun comes up. They won't be looking for you out there, and there's plenty of places to hide."

"We're not interested in hiding," Harry argued, "we're going to fight. As soon as we finish our mission."

Aberforth took a deep breath as he looked doubtfully at Harry, haunted by thoughts that remained unvoiced. Finally he spoke, his voice lower and more stern than before.

"Whatever my brother told you, it isn't worth it. Not worth throwing your lives away for. For Merlin's sake, you're just a boy..."

"He trusted me," Harry spoke gravely, stepping forward with a courage that he only half believed in.

"To do what?" Aberforth scoffed. "A nice job, is it? Easy? Pleasant? Sort of thing you'd expect an unqualified wizard kid to be able to do without overstretching themselves?"*

Ron and Hermione shifted uneasily as they watched Harry's reaction, knowing that he was struggling with long-held misgivings about Dumbledore and his Great Big Balmy Old Plan. The tension mounted when Harry remained silent, his jaw working as his troubled eyes dropped to stare at the ground.

Aberforth sighed and shook his head slightly, looking like he was about to say something else when suddenly a noise sounded from overhead. All four wizards froze, straining to hear the painfully quiet, barely-detectable sound of someone moving around upstairs. Harry turned to look at Ron and Hermione with panic. _Had the Death Eaters returned?_

Aberforth drew his wand and lifted his free hand to his lips, motioning for the others to keep quiet. He was watching the doorway at the top of the stairwell as if certain that trouble was about to step through it. A shadow appeared, small at first then increasing in size as its caster slowly moved toward the cellar, until finally a darker shape emerged. Everyone held their breath as the dark form hovered at the edge of the door frame, barely visible but still intimidating in size and stealth, peering carefully down into the unlit space. They knew that they were trapped down there, and that their dark guest knew it, too.

"Who's there?" Aberforth challenged, "This is a private residence!"

When the figure simply paused consideringly, Aberforth continued,

"I don't want any trouble! Announce yourself, or I'll be forced to defend my property!"

Finally a deep and familiar voice sounded from the room above. "I'm looking for my charges; I believe they may have passed through here."

"_Severus?" _Hermione gasped, stepping forward at the sound of his voice.

Suddenly the dark man spun into the doorway, seizing the frame in a tense grasp as he scanned the cellar with wide, disbelieving eyes, forgetting in his astonishment that Aberforth still had his wand trained on him.

"_You!" _Aberforth exclaimed, recognizing his brother's murderer. "What's he doing here?" Aberforth barked, "What's all this?"

Hermione reached out to grasp Aberforth's arm, bidding that he lower his wand.

"It's all right," Hermione assured, "he's a friend!"

Looking back to Severus in a mix of confounded emotions, Hermione watched as relief flooded Severus' features. His voice sounded strained as he demanded, "Are you all right?"

"...Yes..." she near-whispered, looking at him nervously, unsure what she was feeling or how she should react to his arrival, "...Yes, we're fine. Aberforth helped us."

Severus was looking at her as if he hadn't heard her; as if he was speaking to a ghost that might evaporate if he so much as breathed.

"What's wrong with him?" Aberforth muttered after a moment, gripping his wand tightly as he tried to contain the wrath that threatened to unleash itself. He was watching Severus warily, as if he were a wild animal.

"That's a loaded question," Ron murmured, looking to Harry conspiratorially.

"Please," Hermione urged, squeezing Aberforth's arm in desperation, "don't hurt him; he's not what you think... I can explain."

"That's a pretty tall order, Missy," Aberforth sneered, "considering he's the bastard that did my own brother in."

Hermione looked up to Severus in fear, and found that he wasn't even paying attention to the man poised to _Avada Kedavra _him on the spot. He was still staring at her, as if she were the only person in the room; as if _she _were more of a threat to him in that moment than a man intent on avenging his brother's murder; as if with one gesture, she could destroy him where he stood. She blinked at him in bewilderment.

"What are you looking at me for?" Hermione beseeched of him, watching him with uncertainty as she turned back to Aberforth.

"Please just calm down, I promise you don't need to do this... Harry, tell him!" Hermione pleaded.

"He's bleeding," Harry stated matter-of-factly.

"What?" Hermione asked in confusion.

"His arm," Harry pointed, "it's dripping blood..."

Before Hermione could confirm Harry's observation, Severus startled everyone by wavering in place. Suddenly his knees buckled and he dropped to the floor, his grip on the doorframe slipping as he sunk weakly to his knees. His eyes lost focus and his mouth gaped as if he were about to pass out.

Hermione gasped and lunged toward him, running up the stairs to catch him as he slumped forward.

"Severus! What happened!" She cried, looking in terror at the bloody gash on his arm. She turned to look down at the stunned crowd, who were still staring at the drama as if they were watching the telly.

"Don't just stand there!" She shouted, "_Do something!_"

Aberforth lowered his wand, though his posture remained defensive. When nobody else seemed intent on acting, Harry realized that the responsibility fell to him. Swallowing his displeasure, he started forward and addressed his friend, "Come on then, Ron. Let's get the git off the damned floor."

"Is anyone going to tell me why you're all so keen to help that man?" Aberforth demanded.

"It's a long story," Ron sighed, begrudgingly moving to assist. "But if you don't mind sharing a round of butterbeers after we get this mess sorted, I'd be willing to tell it."

...

* * *

><p>*<em>This line is lifted directly from Chapter 28 of The Deathly Hallows.<em>


	65. Chapter 65

_A/N: The pace is going to start picking up again soon... hold on folks! It may be a bumpy ride..._

* * *

><p>.<p>

Chapter 65

.

Severus was appalled at the condition of the Blood–Replenishing Potion he had been forced to consume. The degradation of the tannins suggested that it had surpassed its shelf life months ago. Still, it wasn't completely useless. Though its effects were sluggish and it left a dreadful taste in his mouth, he would live.

Not that his injury would have killed him. He had survived far worse. But it certainly would have made it difficult to mobilize himself, which is what he needed to do as soon as possible. The tavern was no place to be getting comfortable, given the state of affairs in Hogsmead. They would have to leave as soon as it was safe to depart... or as soon as Hermione woke up.

She had fallen asleep in the sad–looking armchair opposite the cot Severus had been laid out upon — Aberforth's cot, ostensibly. Though the mattress wasn't doing his back any favors and the bedding smelled vaguely of goats, Severus wasn't inclined to move so long as Hermione slumbered beside him. With a pang of guilt, he wondered if she'd slept at all since that hideous episode that had transpired between them. The dark creases under her eyes gave him cause to doubt that she had.

Did her apparent concern for his well–being mean that she would actually be willing to forgive him? Though the thought inspired a hope that he was reluctant to acknowledge, he couldn't help but worry about the concept at the same time. Surely he didn't deserve forgiveness. Wasn't that the plan, anyhow? To turn her away with as much vitriol as he could summon; to show her the error in choosing him? Though he'd regretted it as soon as she'd fled from him in tears, it had been the necessary thing, after all... _hadn't it?_

He knew what he wanted: her.

He knew what he couldn't have if Dumbledore's wishes were to be carried out and his honor were to be restored: her.

There was a war on. The outcome of it would shape the Wizarding World for generations to come. So far, that outcome was looking grim, and he had the potential to make a difference; to ensure what little hope of victory remained. To sacrifice all of that for something so vain seemed like the gravest mistake. His rational mind knew what must be done. _Why, then, did every bone in his body urge him to do otherwise? Why was he nearly mad with the compulsion to pull Hermione into that cot with him and kiss all of her anxieties away? ...Was he losing his mind? Was this the mark of insanity? A warning sign, or a legitimate instinct? Could he trust himself to know the difference?_

She stirred. He held his breath. Slowly, her eyes focused and settled on his. She looked miserable. He looked worse.

"You're all right, then," she murmured.

"In a matter of speaking," he murmured back. She squinted one eye and frowned.

"Do you need anything?" she asked flatly. Oh. Still upset with him, apparently. He knew he didn't deserve anything other than coldness from her, but he'd still been hoping for some reluctant coddling, at the very least.

_Your skin against mine_, he thought. "A glass of water," he muttered.

She narrowed her eyes at him. _Was it the wrong thing to request? _The potion did leave a very unpleasant aftertaste... "Please," he added. She let out a short sigh and picked up a mug from beside her chair, rose, and placed it unceremoniously on the nightstand beside him. He glanced down and saw that it was half-full of water.

"You can have the rest of that," she snapped. He raised an eyebrow, but wasn't compelled to complain. He sipped gingerly at the room–temperature liquid until it was all gone, then locked eyes with Hermione as he set down the mug.

"What are you doing in Hogsmead," he asked, unable to keep a note of censure out of his voice.

"I might ask you the same thing," she retorted, crossing her arms in front of her.

"You know why I had to come," he intoned, drawing out his response with characteristic sarcasm, "I heard the alarm. I felt the Dementors."

"So?" she challenged, "I thought you were going to leave us to fend for ourselves; wasn't that what you insisted on? Isn't that what you wanted?"

"You know perfectly well that I didn't mean—"

"That you didn't mean you'd allow us to come to harm? But isn't it the same thing, Severus? You know how dangerous this mission will be for us — I thought that you understood that much."

"But this wasn't part of your 'mission'!" Severus snapped, "Whatever this was, it was completely reckless!"

"You don't know that," Hermione argued. "As a matter of fact, it was completely necessary."

"How could the three of you traipsing into Hogsmead—unaccompanied and unprepared—at six in the bloody morning be 'necessary'?"

"_It's none of your business!" _Hermione cried, "You gave up the right to ask me anything about it! You don't want to be involved anymore, remember?"

"That's not what I said," Severus insisted.

"It is! You told me that I had to go back to my friends and never return. That's what you said." Though she sounded as if she wanted to cry, Hermione was doing an admirable job of holding herself together.

"I didn't mean—"

"_I know what you meant_, Severus," Hermione interrupted. "I get it, all right? Let's not rehash it all over again. What's said has been said. I don't want to hear it all over again; certainly not in this place."

As she started to leave the room, Severus scrambled out of the cot and reached for her arm. "Hermione, wait—"

"Is everything all right, Hermione?" Ron asked, stepping inside and nudging his way between the couple, eyeing Snape with suspicion.

"Get out, Weasley," Severus snapped.

"Thank you, Ron, I'm fine," Hermione muttered. "Where's Harry?"

"Talking with Mr. Dumbledore upstairs. We got him up to speed on everything, now."

"Are you sure we can trust him?"

"Yeah, I do. Him and Professor Dumbledore had some major issues with each other, but it all makes sense. He explained a lot. I'll tell you more about it later. Oh, that reminds me..."

Ron paused as Severus huffed and paced back to the cot, looking quite put-out.

"Um, yeah. Dumbledore, he had a sister..." Ron awkwardly mentioned.

"Oh... yes, I think I remember reading something about her," Hermione replied, warily eyeing Severus as he crossed his arms frustratedly in her peripheral vision.

"Yeah, well... Mr. Dumbledore has something he wants to give you. Something that belonged to her. It's upstairs."

Hermione's eyes lit up in realization, and she smiled in thanks as she left the room. Ron returned the smile as he watched her leave, then turned to glance at Severus, who was watching him through slitted eyes.

"What?" Ron challenged.

Severus' dark expression spoke volumes.

...

Hermione found Aberforth and Harry in a ramshackle sitting room of sorts at the top of the stairs, discussing something in hushed tones. At her entrance, both stood up to greet her.

"Sorry to interrupt," she apologized, "but Ron said you wanted to show me something?"

"Yes, come in, come in," Aberforth encouraged, "feeling rested, I hope?"

"I am, thank you," Hermione replied, noticing a rectangular box on the table in front of the wizards.

"Good, good... Miss Granger, I hear you're in need of a wand."

Hermione's face lit up as her suspicion was confirmed, and she nodded.

"Yes. Well, I suppose I'll just get right to it. No need for any unnecessary pomp and circumstance. See, I've been holding on to this for a very long time. Too long, I suppose." Reaching for the box, Aberforth continued, "It belonged to Ariana, my sister."

Aberforth's eyes moved to a low-hanging portrait situated above a small fireplace, in which a young girl was looking on with a calm, vacant expression. "Died young, she did," Aberforth somberly remarked. "Too young."

There was a solemn pause as Aberforth ran his fingers over the box sentimentally, his voice quieter as he mentioned, "She wasn't a very happy child, I'm afraid. Had more troubles than she deserved. And her magic... well, it suffered along with her. She couldn't control it. I've never seen anything like it, not before or since."

"I'm sorry, sir," Hermione offered. "I did know a little about it; only from some things I read here and there."

"You haven't been reading anything by that Rita Skeeter, I hope," Aberforth remarked rather brusquely. Before Hermione could reply, he continued, "Did you know she was as sweet as the day was long? Did you know that I was her favorite? That I protected her as best as I could?"

"No, sir," Hermione quietly replied.

"It wasn't good enough, though," Aberforth sighed. "She died, and for all I know it could've been my hand that killed her. We never could be sure whose curse it was."

A silence fell over the room while Aberforth tried to shake off the dark remembrance that had come over him. After a moment, he reached out to offer Hermione the box.

"Here. Take it. I hope it serves you better than it did her."

Hermione stepped forward and tentatively reached to accept the generous gift, a frisson of something indefinable coursing through her as her fingers made contact with the wood. Smiling softly at Aberforth, she carefully opened the box to reveal the wand nestled on a scrap of coral velvet.

"Vine wood?" She asked in surprise.

"That's right," Aberforth confirmed. "With a Veela hair core. Temperamental material, I know, but she was so attached to the thing. Wouldn't trade it for another."

"My old wand was vine wood," Hermione quietly remarked, her voice full of wonder.

"You don't say? Didn't happen to correspond with your birth date, by any chance?" he asked, his interest piqued. "Ariana was born on the cusp of the Celtic calendar, the 29th day of September..."

"Mine is the 19th of September," Hermione mused.

"Well how about that... what do you say to that, Harry?" Aberforth exhaled through his nose, looking to the other wizard.

"Weird," Harry agreed.

"Well now. I suppose it was just meant to be..." Aberforth said with disbelief, looking like he had more on his mind than coincidental birth months. Scratching his head, he murmured, "Why don't you run along and try it out... try some simple spells down in the cellar. That's the safest place. Nothing too ambitious, mind you — don't want to draw any attention..."

"Of course — thank you, sir... thank you so much," Hermione beamed. She excused herself and went back down the stairs, admiring the wand as the special treasure that it was.

"Sweet girl, that friend of yours," Aberforth muttered after Hermione had gone.

"She is," Harry agreed. "But... if you don't mind me asking, why are you giving her a wand when you seem so against us fighting in this war? You know that she needs it to fight, don't you?"

"Of course I do," Aberforth huffed, "I wasn't born yesterday."

"Then you've changed your mind?" Harry asked.

Aberforth sat down with a long sigh, taking a moment to gather his thoughts. Finally he looked up at Harry with a strange expression, taking a sip of his tea-and-firewhiskey concoction before he spoke.

"I didn't believe that whole business about a 'new prophecy' when I read about it in the _Prophet_. That old rag... it's mostly garbage, you know. I always thought that Lovegood fellow was a kook. Why should folks start taking his ridiculous column so seriously all of a sudden, just because the bloody 'chosen one' is mentioned? No offense..."

"None taken," Harry offered, smirking sheepishly.

"It didn't even make any sense! Not that these things ever do, but for Merlin's sake—that gobbledygook could've been referring to anybody! What was it? The 'Ace'... the 'Knave'..."

"The Virgin Whore," the two recited in unison. Harry's eyes flicked up to meet Aberforth's, who was watching Harry as if he knew that he needed to tread carefully around this subject, though he wasn't certain exactly what it was he was treading around.

"Aye. That one always confounded me the most. Wasn't sure what that was supposed to mean. Still don't, really..." Aberforth admitted, still watching Harry's reaction, this time hoping he might elicit some kind of explanation. But Harry's eyes just dropped down to stare at his hands, indicating that he wasn't keen to discuss it.

"Well, anyhow..." Aberforth mumbled, shrugging his shoulders as he inhaled a long, steady breath. His next words sounded unexpectedly solemn. "Soon as I saw her with you, it occurred to me that there might've been some credence to that prophecy after all."

Harry looked up as Aberforth continued, "Truth be told, I was certain that the poor lass had been killed by You–Know–Who. Seemed that was the only logical explanation for her going missing like that. Of course, there was some talk that the Death Eaters were looking for her, but I figured that was nothing more than optimistic gossip. Folks wanted to believe that she was still alive; wanted to believe that there was still hope... but myself... I wasn't so optimistic. But there she was, back with you and the Weasley boy, just as the nutters had been saying she would be... just as the prophecy seemed to portend! Well, Potter, I don't mind telling you... once I saw her, I felt just a tiny bit giddy, you know? I won't say it changed my outlook entirely... no... I still think the sky is falling, and anyone who thinks otherwise needs their head examined. But seeing her gave me a little bit of hope; made me think there might be something to all this 'savior' business, after all. Does that make any sense?"

Aberforth was looking at Harry self-consciously as he waited for a reply. Harry smiled softly and nodded, saying, "Yeah. Yeah, it does. Thank you, sir. That... that means a lot."

"Harry."

Harry met Aberforth's eyes again, his own eyes questioning the serious tone used to utter his given name.

"I'm not telling you this just to bolster your confidence, son. Though I expect you need bolstering just as much, if not more than the rest of us."

As Harry waited expectantly, Aberforth continued, "I'm telling you this because I know that I'm a cynic. Always have been. But, son — if one look at _that girl _can make such a difference to someone like me, in these dark times... then just imagine what a difference it might make to others who are feeling lost... you see my point? If you're that determined to fight this war, you're going to be needing all the help you can get. People are afraid. People are losing hope. Just think what a difference it would make if all of them were to know what I know."

Harry was scratching his head, looking simultaneously illuminated and dismayed.

"But we can't tell anyone — it's too much of a risk, letting You–Know–Who find out that Hermione's with us... he'll just come after her."

"Harry, it's too much of a risk _not _letting him find out. Don't you see? He's already coming after her. He's coming after all of you. He just doesn't know where you are. It couldn't make matters any worse for you if he knew that you three were united against him; in fact, it could only make things worse for _him _— throw him off–balance, right?"

"Maybe you have a point..."

"I think I do. But it's not up to me — this has to be your decision, and hers. If you wanted me to, I could start spreading the word, but that in itself won't be enough. If you really want to get everyone's attention, you have to find a way of making this thing public."

"How would I do that?"

"Oh," Aberforth paused, uncharacteristic excitement threatening to show through his gruff exterior, "I'm sure if we all put our heads together, we can come up with something..."

...

* * *

><p>"<em>Absolutely not<em>."

"Hold on, Severus..."

"It's out of the question. _End_ of discussion."

"It's not up to you, Snape."

"Like hell it isn't!"

"Ron's right, we should have a vote."

"This isn't a democracy, Potter."

"What is it then? A Snape-tatorship?"

"Shut it, Weasley. It _is not going to happen_."

"This isn't getting us anywhere. I think we should talk about _why _you're so against it, Severus."

"I don't want to have this conversation in front of those two."

"Well, tough. This involves all of us."

"Hermione..."

"No, Severus. You made it perfectly clear that this isn't about just the two of us anymore, so either we discuss it with them, or we leave you out of it altogether."

"Ha!"

"_I'm warning you, Weasley_..."

"Oh for crying out loud, can someone tell me why we're even including him at all?"

"Come on, Harry, we talked about this. This would be a lot easier if we had Severus on our side."

"Since you all seem to be under the misapprehension that I can somehow be convinced that this _is not_ the worst idea you lot have ever come up with, let me be perfectly clear: either you abandon this insane notion once and for all, or I will be forced to take measures to _ensure_ that it does not happen."

"...What exactly are you threatening to do, Severus? Lock me away somewhere?"

"...If I have to."

"I'd only escape."

"Not if I made sure you couldn't."

"And how would you manage that? You'd actually tie me up or something?"

"...If it came to that..."

"..._I'd like to see you try_."

"Don't tempt me."

"I have a wand now, and I'm not afraid to use it..."

"Is that so?"

"Try me."

"You severely overestimate your own aptitude if you think that you can take _me _on, single-handedly."

"I beg to differ."

"...Um... guys, can you tone it down a little, please? It's making me uncomfortable."

"Yeah, I'm with Harry on that."

"What are you talking about, Harry?"

"Please don't make me say it Hermione."

"Say what?"

"Just... get a room, already."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"Sod this. I'm taking that tunnel to the Room of Requirement*. We've got work to do. Are you coming, Harry?"

"I'm right behind you, Ron. They can work it out between themselves. Let us know when you've made a decision."

With that, the two wizards left Severus and Hermione to stew in their increasingly hostile sexual tension. As Ariana's portrait swung back into place, neither one of them attempted to make eye contact with the other. Severus was loathe to admit it to himself, but he kind of wished that Potter and Weasley hadn't left.

Downstairs, Aberforth could be heard preparing the tavern in case anyone dropped in during business hours. The upstairs room had been warded so that no one could hear the inhabitants, but they were still far from safe as long as they were in Hogsmead. Aberforth would be back soon to hear what they had decided.

Eventually it was Hermione who broke the awkward silence. "We can't go on like this. It isn't working."

"Agreed."

"I'm still angry with you."

"I figured as much."

"..."

"You do understand _why _I'm angry, don't you?"

When Severus just stared at the floor with a furrowed brow, Hermione sighed and fiddled with her new wand, running her fingers over the delicately carved, snaking vines. As the silence stretched out, Severus looked over to where she was seated across from him. After hesitating, he reached over carefully, his fingers unfurling in a question.

"...May I?" he asked, clearly indicating the wand.

Hermione looked up uncertainly. "Do you promise to give it back?"

Severus frowned slightly at the question, but nodded in assent. Hermione regarded him critically before tentatively placing the wand in his outstretched fingers. She watched nervously as Severus examined it, his eyes calculating and his lips pursed in concentration.

"The core is unusual... Veela hair?" He inquired, though he clearly already knew the answer. Hermione nodded. "Then it isn't of Ollivander's making... the craftsmanship is still very fine, however... it looks as though it may be an antique... perhaps centuries old..."

"It belonged to Ariana. Aberforth never mentioned where it came from."

"Most unusual design..." Severus quietly mused, absorbed in the beauty of the piece. After a moment Severus glanced up at Hermione, who was watching him patiently. True to his word, he slowly moved to hand it back to her, though he held it out in a way that made her worry he might retract his hand as soon as she reached to reclaim it. She was gratified when he simply let her take it from him without any fuss.

"You've been without a wand for quite some time," he noted, "it may take some getting used to, especially given the nature of the core."

"I'm sure I'll manage," she replied, a little obstinately.

Severus quirked his brow as he continued, "All the same, I would encourage you to practice as much as you can before trusting it not to betray you. If you'll allow it, I would be amenable to instructing you in the appropriate exercises."

"I'm sure Harry can help me if I need it," Hermione replied dismissively.

Severus frowned deeply before tersely retorting, "While I don't doubt that _Harry _would jump at the opportunity of demonstrating his enormously over-estimated 'talent,' surely there's something to be said for my own level of experience with teaching."

"That may be so," Hermione offhandedly conceded, "but I still might prefer his company over yours, if you can't even bother to apologize for what you said to me."

Breathing deeply through his nose, Severus slumped forward in his chair and interlaced his fingers in front of him. After a long delay, Hermione heard him mutter, "I'm sorry."

"Excuse me?" she inquired, pretending she hadn't heard the low–voiced apology.

Severus glanced up to meet her eyes, and she was struck by the self-consciousness plainly writ on his face. "Hermione," he spoke softly, "I am sorry."

Hermione felt her stomach drop, which wasn't at all what she was expecting. Suddenly she was having a difficult time maintaining the righteous indignation that had been so powerful moments ago. "Did you mean what you said last night?" she asked, trying not to sound as meek as she suddenly felt.

Severus looked conflicted. He wanted to tell her everything, but couldn't betray Dumbledore's confidence. "Sort of," he murmured, causing her to feel a moment of panic. "That is... I mean... it's more complicated than you realize."

"What do you mean? How?" Hermione asked, her voice almost breaking.

"I have... responsibilities... debts that must be accounted for, which preclude me from being who you want... from doing what I want..." he struggled to explain, wringing his hands together anxiously.

Hermione studied him closely, afraid of what she might find if she looked hard enough. "You still feel beholden to her, then?" she quietly guessed.

"No," Severus insisted, locking eyes with her to affirm his sincerity. "No, not to her. Not anymore."

Hermione looked thoroughly confused. She had been sure that this was all about Severus' undying devotion to Lily Potter. "Then who? Who else?"

"Please, Hermione, I can't... I promised I wouldn't..."

"I don't understand; who else could you possibly feel you owe anything to?" Hermione challenged, at a loss.

Suddenly another voice broke into the room from the direction of Ariana's portrait, startling both occupants as they turned toward it.

"To me," the painted Albus Dumbledore solemnly explained. "Severus owes his allegiance to me."

...

* * *

><p>*<em>In this story, the tunnel to the Room of Requirement already exists. Let's pretend that [in the Original Universe] the Room only revealed it to Neville when he needed it, but that it wasn't created because of Neville. And that Aberforth already knew about it, and just told Harry. Sounds good? Moving along...<em>


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